Chapter Text
The cart was standing room only, though the other soldiers took turns sitting on the benches running the length of the train. A bunch of them were sleeping, hunched up against the walls or curled into balls on the floor. We would watch our steps to make sure not to accidentally kick any of them, though some people didn’t care and then they would start bickering like little kids.
“Hey you,” someone said.
I pressed my face into the window, hoping he wasn’t talking to me.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” He nudged my arm.
Go away. I’m not listening to you, I thought.
“Buddy,” He shouted, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around. “I uh…”
“What?” I finally groaned.
He seemed a little startled to be looking right at me despite him being the one to pester me to begin with. “You haven’t, um, been sleeping, right?”
“No,” I replied.
“Well, why not?”
“Not tired.”
“You should get some rest.”
“Why do you care? Get lost.”
He recoiled a little bit, but puffed up angrily. “Because we’re going to that city! You heard the commissar, right? When we end up fighting, I need my comrades to be alert and ready to go.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know we’ll end up fighting?”
He scoffed. “Because this is a big deal. Didn’t you read the papers? Did you even notice how short our training was in Moscow? That city is Stalingrad. The Germans came out of nowhere and set the whole place on fire. Then they marched in and just started killing. It was an absolute massacre. We’re going down there to fight them. It’s the whole German Sixth Army, so you won’t be able to walk a meter without running into a German.”
“Yeah, I don’t really read the papers,” I said.
“All right, wise guy, this isn’t about the papers or Stalin or anything. Even if the commissars say it is, don’t you care that these people are invading our country? We can’t let them get away with this! This is our home.”
“Yeah, I know. Trust me,” I flared a little before mumbling, “this isn’t the first time I’ve fought them anyway.”
“What? You’ve fought Germans already?” the kid said way too loudly, drawing a lot of unwanted attention.
I shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, so what? Who cares?”
“So? What is it like? How many did you kill? None of us have fought them before, so-”
“Look,” I snapped, “it was just a skirmish in our village. I was with my sister and some friends.”
He stared at me with an entirely too serious expression in his frost-colored eyes. I decided it was best not to tell him that we had to run away and almost everyone died.
“We had a column pass through our village,” I continued. “Anyway, we fought them off and they left us alone after they found out we had guns. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“I see. So you enlisted to get revenge on them for attacking your village?”
“No way.” I crossed my arms. “Why would anyone do that?"
"Then why did you enlist? What made you become a soldier?"
Some of the other soldiers turned to look at us, and my face grew hot under their stares. What a dumb question. It wasn't any of his business anyway.
"I was drafted in," I finally said. "I am a soldier because they plucked me off the streets and told me to be one. Why would anyone sign up to die horribly anyway?"
“We enlisted,” he replied. “I’m Ivan Anatolievich Sokolov, or just Vanya. Why wouldn’t we enlist? The war is right on our doorstep. Didn’t you hear all of the horrible things I said the Germans did?"
"Yeah, whatever."
Vanya puffed up again which was really starting to get on my nerves. “We enlisted because the war is going to come to us eventually anyway. Pretty much everyone has relatives or friends who have already fought or were killed by the Germans. Mitya and I decided to enlist together. We just got out of schooling last summer.”
“Mitya?” I inquired.
“Oh, this is Mitya,” Vanya said, crouching down next to a dark clump huddled in the floor that I hadn’t even noticed.
“Anyway,” Vanya continued, “I’ve decided that you are sticking with us.”
“What? Why me?” I snapped.
“Because you have fought them so you know what it is like. It’s best to stick around with people who have experience. That’s why I need you to get some sleep. We need to be able to depend on each other.”
I scoffed. What did this kid know about depending on people? His so-called friend hadn’t even said a word through this whole trip. Vanya should have done a better job of picking his allies.
Suddenly, over the roar of the train, we heard a popping noise outside and little holes pocketed the roof of the cart one by one, and then, two by two. Muffled cries sounded in my ears as a few figures around me bolted forward before slumping to the ground.
“It’s the Germans,” Vanya hissed right next to me. “Get down!”
The train screeched to a halt, and I felt every lerch and bump in the pit of my stomach. A commissar slid open the doors, shouting something about getting out. The others slowly began trickling out, only to be gunned down by the planes up above. I reached the edge of the door and peeked out. Smoke poured in from somewhere, burning my throat and eyes.
“Get moving!” came someone’s voice that rose above all of the noise.
And go out there to get shot full of holes? I crouched, putting my hands over my ears that throbbed with these horrible sounds.
“I said get moving!”
Something bowled into me, knocking my breath away. Before I knew it, the darkness of the train flashed into a bright, clear blue sky streaked with lines of black smoke. I couldn’t find my arms and legs, and for a second, I wondered if they were still attached. A hail of bullets pelted the ground, throwing up clouds of dust.
And then, everything was still.
Catching my breath, a few strands of cornsilk hair fluttered in the corner of my eye. A woman, one of the lieutenants, yanked me by the shoulders and pulled hard so that I was sitting on my knees in what appeared to be a shallow ditch.
“That,” she huffed, “is why you listen to what I tell you to do, Private. Usually, your life depends on it. The planes need something to aim at. That train gave them a target. Don’t make your hiding spot right under a target.”
I looked around, dazed with my ears still ringing. More smoke poured from the train as it sat on the tracks, and the other soldiers continued running out of the carts only to be shot down by the German planes that kept making passes around us. Several of the others were lying in the field, screaming for help. That could have been me. We hadn’t even gotten to the battle yet, and that could have been me.
I started to get up to make a run for it only for the officer from before yank me down hard.
“Hey! Get it together!” the officer shouted, shaking me a little. “I am Lt. Svetlana Nikolaevna Volnakova. No sudden movements, kid. They are just shooting at what moves”
My chest pressed into the dry ground, and I couldn’t see anything over the tall grass around us. Lt. Svetlana had her left arm pressing down on my upper back, making it hard to breathe. After a few minutes of more screaming and gunfire, the planes seemed to lose interest and vanish past the ridgeline.
“So do you have a name or something?” Svetlana asked, still lying flat.
“It’s Nika,” I murmured..
“‘Nika’ what?”
“Nikifor Krolikov,” I said a little louder. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Huh, you must be from the countryside.”
“What is that supposed to mean? Is ‘Nikifor’ the name of a designated potato farmer?”
Lt. Svetlana rose up to a crouch and sighed as those of us who were left popped up from out of the ditches. In total, there were maybe fifteen of us left, and it looked like Svetlana was the highest ranking officer left.
“Hey Sveta,” Vanya called, “what are we going to do now?”
“Vanya I told you not to call me ‘Sveta,’” she roared back. “But if you must know, we’re going to Stalingrad. I have a quota to meet, and Captain Semyonov is dead. We’re about a days walk away from the docks. If we stay here, we’ll be sitting ducks. The Germans will swarm this place looking for survivors or recovery crews.
“Go radio this in to battalion,” she said, turning to one of her men. “Tell them that Lt. Volnakova had to go on ahead.”
Before he made his way over the ridge, she called out again, “Shit! I forgot.”
“Er, ma’am?” he asked as she fumbled through her pockets and scribbled something down on a slip of paper.
“Take this with you. It’s the train information and the casualties,” she said before shooing him off.
The other soldiers from the train all seemed to have a similar idea. Of however many of us there were, the remaining officers took their men in small groups toward Stalingrad to avoid being caught all at once by the German planes and artillery. The trip was far from an easy one. They had us march in training, but never over this much distance in this kind of heat. According to commissars, there was a big heat wave in the area between the two rivers which is what allowed the Germans to enter the city like Vanya said earlier. I found myself falling to the rear of our line to stay as far away from the Lieutenant as possible. She reminded me of my sister in a way, but way more brazen and careless.
Sometimes, the hum of recon planes sent us scurrying into the ditches or tall grass. They had to have seen us, but I guess we didn’t exactly strike them as a threat. Sometimes, our own planes buzzed by and the others would wave. All I could think about was how bad of a job they did given the fate of our five o’clock express.
-
Around midnight, we all made it to the riverbank. A few boats bobbed up and down in the wash, but it looked like they were empty, likely decoys. I didn’t see anyone making the crossing at this hour. The Soviet Navy was nowhere in sight, either.
“I don’t feel so good,” Mitya mumbled, this being the first time he’d spoken.
“No one really does,” I said back to him.
“That is just how Mitya is,” Vanya told me. “He gets nervous and sick easily. One time in training, he fainted after firing a PPSH for the first time.”
That wasn’t encouraging.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at Mitya before, but he really didn’t seem well at all. Like all of us, he had his hair shaved. It seemed like he used to have dark hair which was out of place for how pale his face was. He always had dark circles under his eyes with lids that drooped over his pale green irises. Vanya acted like this was all normal, but it was pretty clear to me that his best friend wasn’t as enthusiastic as he was.
“Hey, Navy guy!” Svetlana called, kicking the hollow metal sides of the ferry. “We’re crossing, so get up already, sheesh!”
After a few seconds, we all heard something rustling around in the boat. A commissar peeked up from under a tarp looking pretty disheveled. He actually looked to be about my age, but an eyepatch over his left eye made him look a lot older and more intimidating.
“Birdbrains!” Svetlana said way too loudly. “You aren’t the Navy. Why are you on boat duty?”
“No,” the commissar whispered, “but you should keep your voice down. The Navy is busy upstream. We weren’t expecting more crossings this late into the night.”
“If they weren’t expecting more crossings, why did they leave you here, then?”
“My captain told me to stop any stragglers… and remind them that time is of the essence when fighting fascists. You guys are the last group to make it here from the train. We had a few platoons several hours ago, but none since.”
“So what’s the real reason?” she asked, crossing her arms.
The commissar paused before saying, “you already know. The train wasn’t just attacked; It was ambushed. Someone blew up the tracks, and the Luftwaffe came in right as the train stopped. The NKVD is supposed to interrogate anyone who was on that train”
“Ugh, what is that supposed to mean? How could any of us have blown up the tracks if we were the ones on the train? Go get Baria on the phone right now because I seriously want to know how he thinks that is how things work. Besides, what about the other groups from the train?”
“We held a few of them back, but most of them crossed earlier today.”
“Well, see? I’m late and I’m not sitting another second on this side of the river. Besides, you know just as well as I do that they need men over there more than the NKVD needs suspects. You can fudge some of the numbers and let us through, right Birdbrains?”
“I-I suppose…”
“Oh by the way,” Svetlana called to us, “this is Commissar Fyodor Vasilievich Popugaev. We go way back, and he’s mostly harmless. I think they demoted him to newspaper duty or something, but he’s almost always around my unit. Just get used to seeing him.”
I half expected Popugaev to threaten her or at least defend himself. Something seemed off about how he spoke. It was as if he was reading from a script or from a storybook in the way parents do to their kids. When surprised, he would stutter and fumble over what he was saying.
The opposite side of the river burned in a line across the horizon with a few buildings distinguishable here and there. The fifteen of us all hesitated as Svetlana hopped into the ferry and banged on the side like she was calling over a dog.
“I’ve not got all night,” she said. “But since no one is using them, let’s take a second boat. That way, if one of you idiots gets us sunk, we don’t all go down.”
“That’s a positive outlook to have,” I murmured.
“Nika, I heard that,” Svetlana snapped. “You earned a place on my squad, jackass. Birdbrains and I will take this boat, and my sergeant will take the other. Seven in one boat, eight in the other. Let’s go, kids.”
We set off from the bank and into the Volga, which was pitch black save for some of the glowing embers it reflected. Even from across the river, the smoke settled around us in a haze. Svetlana flipped on the headlight at the bow, but it didn’t seem to help much. All we could see ahead of us was more smoke and the burning ridgeline in the distance.
“Got any inspirational words, Birdbrains?” Svetlana asked. “Or at least the newspaper or something?”
“Just know,” Popugaev began, “that Comrade Stalin has mandated not one step backwards. There isn’t anything past Stalingrad, so every meter counts. We can’t let them make any more advances.”
“Huh, like I would ever retreat. You NKVD people were the ones who lost Rostov-on-Don, remember?”
“I am aware of that. I was there before I came here.”
“And that’s why Stavka wants you out of the Red Army’s business. So mind yours, would you?”
“Hey, kill the light,” Popugaev hissed.
Overhead, we heard a buzz from those stupid German planes again. Svetlana put out the light as the sound grew louder, and we all stopped rowing. The other boat with the rest of Svetlana’s platoon also cut their light, but maybe a second too late as we heard machine gun fire not far from us. A huge blast rocked our boat. No one dared make a sound as they held on for dear life. We bobbed there for a minute or two after hearing the planes fly off.
“Dammit, there went the rest of my platoon!” Svetlana roared before Popugaev slapped his hand over her mouth.
“Shh, hear that?” he murmured as the sounds of those planes returned.
“Everyone, get in the water,” Svetlana whispered. “They probably can’t see us that well in all of this smoke.”
Everyone mantled over the side and slipped into the swirling, dark water around us. I was getting pretty tired of last-minute escapes whenever these planes came around, but that long march here was definitely better than diving into this disgusting river. The water tasted like ash and petroleum, and I immediately gagged and sputtered when it hit my mouth. I couldn't see her, but Svetlana barked some order about heading for the bank. The planes still buzzed overhead, but. never opened fire again. Even though I knew they couldn't see us, I expected a machine gun round through my back at any moment right up until we hauled ourselves ashore on the docks.
Then it happened.
I saw a flurry of movement and a distant echo in my ear. At first, I thought it was Svetlana or the others, but the echoes grew louder and louder.
A huge band of soviet troops, what seemed like hundreds, rushed up the docks. Dizzy and with numb hands and feet, I just stood there, soaking wet, as they ran past without even noticing me. No, they weren't ignoring me. They were running through me. The procession fanned out up the trenches toward the hill.
"For the Motherland!"
"Shit, where is the lieutenant?"
"Get up there, men!"
“Charge!”
I felt the docks beneath me pulse just like a heartbeat. At first, I thought it was from all of the soldiers, but after a few seconds, they vanished completely. I still felt the ground rumble ever so slightly before Svetlana grabbed me by the shoulders.
"Nika?" She asked. "Did you get that? We're going to make our way into the city to my Captain's command post. It is here on the map."
She pointed at a waterlogged scrap of paper, and I nodded even though I didn't really understand.
"Did you see them?" I asked her.
"See what? Are you sick? I told you guys to throw up that nasty Volga water before I started giving directions."
"Nevermind."
"Well, just don't get lost. There are Germans all over the place, and some of the buildings are still on fire."
Svetlana stood up and began pilfering through the crates by the dock. We all looked at her, waiting for something to happen and not sure if we should say anything.
“Well? Go on and pick something!” Svetlana snapped at us. “I don’t see the supply guys here, but I’m not setting foot into that city without being armed to the teeth. Any preferences? Submachine guns? Hey Birdbrains, give me a hand with this crate. They nailed the PPsH one shut.”
Popugaev sighed and picked up a crowbar. “We aren’t supposed to open those. They’re for the shock troops.”
“Uh, excuse me? I’m pretty sure they’re not for the shock troops. Do you see any shock troops here?”
“No…”
“Then shut up and open the crate!”
Hey!” came an unfamiliar shout. “Who the hell are you people?”
“Shit!” Svetlana barked. “Quartermaster. Grab what you can and let’s go!”
“Sir, I can explain…” Popugaev dropped the crowbar.
“Birdbrains, let’s go!” Svetlana grabbed his arm and raced up the slope by the docks.
In the darkness, I completely forgot to take a rifle from the open crates before getting caught up in Svetlana’s little escape plan. I darted after her, not wanting to get left behind to explain things to the officer she just pissed off.”
A line of trenches led up the bank and into the city. Moving up single-file, I choked on the stench. Along with the smoke that settled in the trenches, a cocktail of other smells hit me head on. It was difficult to see, but along the timber-lined retaining walls, covered bodies lay along the path. After a little while, we started seeing uncovered bodies as well, many seemingly left in the same position in which they died. Each wound seemed worse than the last, and I thought of the soldiers rushing up the bank who all seemed so alive in my vision. I gagged, and, had I eaten anything that day, probably would have thrown up right there while in line.
“Keep it down back there,” Svetlana whispered.
“Remember,” Popugaev said. “For every one of us they get, we get ten of theirs.”
That seemed like a lie, but I tried to keep myself from heaving violently as we continued.
The trench let out into a ruined brick building, which seemed to be a post office, and a German tank rumbled past our little squad, way too close for comfort.
“We’re right against their lines here,” Popugaev noted. “Keep your heads down. They can’t see us in the darkness, but be careful.”
Suddenly, I heard the echo of laughter in my ear. At this point, I had become accustomed to ignoring hallucinations, but the laughter joined with more and more voices. My hands and feet grew numb again, making me trip a little as I tried to keep up with the others. Peeking over the ruined brick wall, I saw dozens of people dressed in summer clothes, most of them women and children. They held hands and walked along the ruined street. I heard singing echo through the streets, though none of the people I saw even opened their mouths.
Beautiful soldiers with gleaming spears,
You travel along a road of hardship,
Sending up motes of dust in the sunlight.
Your weapons pierce the summer horizon,
Spreading a black stain across the land.
Thousands of you flicker like tiny flames
And become red stars in the morning sky.
Was this a song about war? Seeing how things were now, I felt a twinge of guilt for running away for so long. I never paid attention to the newspaper, and when war finally came, I was completely surprised. One always hopes misfortune will miss him, but can anyone really be so sure?
Watching the people of Stalingrad a few seconds longer, I realized something was different about this city. Since childhood I would see flashes of memory from time to time, but never visions with so many people. The dizziness and numbness, too, definitely reminded me of my usual visions. However, I normally had to touch a specific object to trigger the visions. Stalingrad was like a box overflowing with memories. The lives and emotions of everyone who lived here passed through my conscience in a flood. It was too much. Their voices all echoed like radio static in my ears, and I clutched my head, shaking.
In a blink, the people vanished from the dark streets, and I was alone. Svetlana must have taken the others on ahead, and it would be like her to not count heads every few meters. I peered out from behind the brick wall again, and saw more German armor patrolling along the lane with headlights waving back and forth. In a way, I was relieved to see them over the onslaught of memories. Still, I would have been happier to see other Russians.
“Comrade commissar?” I whispered, creeping along the ruined wall. “Lieutenant Volnakova?”
I really had no idea where she had run off to, and Popugaev seemed to be the one guiding them around the German lines. How was I supposed to know where the lines fell in the dark and in a city I just showed up in?
I ducked into the next building, which was so ruined that I couldn’t even tell what it used to be. Every footstep felt like the loudest thing in the entire world, and I walked on the balls of my feet around shattered glass and concrete, barely breathing.
A shot rang out way too close for comfort.
I dove to the ground, and the shards of glass made me wince. Somewhere, I heard the sound of boots approaching. Squirming under a broken chair, my heart pounded in my ears as I heard someone speaking German. My mind flew to Palochkova Village, the first time I had ever heard the language.
He paced the room, looking around likely to see if he hit me. I realized that in the dark, my panicked dive looked a lot like someone getting shot.
Before I knew it, I started whimpering from the fear of it all.
He turned, moving closer and closer.
With shaking hands, I remembered the bayonet I had on my belt. I had to fight. I had to fight. My mind raced from thoughts of fighting to thoughts of my impending death. I sprung up from my hiding place, screaming while I plunged the bayonet into something. Looking up behind my stupid tears, I could see his face give a startled gasp. His pistol clattered off into the darkness. Well at least if I die, it won’t be quick, I thought.
He brought up his knee square into my chest, winding me. I staggered for a second giving him a chance to slam his fist into my jaw. He started ranting in German as I crumpled to the ground. He charged headfirst into my chest, and I was pinned to the ground before I could retaliate. More importantly, the bayonet slipped out of my hand and clattered to the floor. I reached for it, only to have the German bring his hands around my throat with his knee pressed into my chest.
For a brief moment, I saw his eyes: bright blue just like mine though under one of those weird German helmets. They were terrifying. Bearing down harder, he snarled at me, and I felt the heat of his breath on my face as I struggled to breathe. With one hand trying to pull his grip from my neck, I scrambled for the bayonet with the other, clawing the ground like an a snared rabbit. The instant my hand brushed up against the blade, I brought it up and plunged it deep into the German’s back. His grip loosened, and he slumped on top of me.
“Comrade Captain,” I heard a voice, “I told you I heard the gunshot form here!”
Svetlana, Popugaev, the rest of our squad, and a captain I did not recognize all poured in from another room, gawking like I was in the circus. There I was, somehow not dead, with a now-lifeless German slumped over me and a bayonet deep in his back. I guess this time, I hit something important.
“What the hell?” Svetlana snapped. “He was here? You set up your command post here while Fritz was just camped out maybe 50 meters away?”
“Nika!” I heard Vanya’s voice.
In that instant, all I could think of was how much I wished he was on the other boat with Svetlana’s sergeant.
“See, Mitya,” he continued, “I told you it would be good to stick with him. He’s already over here killing Germans-”
Vanya recoiled a bit when he saw what I assume was my grossly sobbing face. He backed away a few steps and didn’t say anything else, which was pretty rare for him.
“Sheesh, Nika,” Svetlana said, crossing her arms. “He’s already dead. You can release your death-grip on the knife now.”
Without a word, I pried my hands off of the bayonet and held them awkwardly on my lap. Only then did I notice that they were covered in blood.
There was some sort of commotion upstairs and we heard footsteps and German voices up above us.
“Shit, we’ve got to go,” Svetlana said, ordering us out the back of the building through a hole in the wall.
“Svetlana,” the captain said as we ran, “Is this the one you said would probably be dead by now?”
Thanks for having faith in me, Svetlana, I thought.
“Look, Captain Cherikov, the kid’s got luck,” she replied. “I mean, sure he is alive right now, but what am I supposed to do with a guy who can’t even follow a line for literally one block. Stupid only survives so long in Stalingrad.”
Cherikov gave me a long, severe stare. He had a fairly full beard that he would scratch as if thinking. It might have been a little funny if he wasn’t such a large, imposing guy. In the darkness, he looked like a lion.
“Good job. That’s what it means to be alive,” he finally said to me. “It’s the only way to be alive.”
Something about his tone of voice made me think for a split second that he actually enjoyed this kind of thing. I didn’t know who he was, but his little compliment echoed in my mind. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but I guess I would have taken it better if I wasn’t such a mess.
“We’re changing bases,” he said, running to the head of the line. “We’ll just move back to Lieutenant Romenko’s position. He won’t mind an extra squad hanging around. They want us up the hill, anyway.”
“Ugh, why him?” Svetlana groaned. “It would just be easier to fight off the whole German Sixth Army right here and now.”
The captain didn’t reply as we rounded the corner of another building. My whole body started hurting after a little while, but I tried to ignore it as I followed Svetlana and her captain deeper into the city. All the while, I couldn’t stop thinking about the eyes of that German.