Tatiana and Alexander (22 page)

Alexander was silent. He knew. The army was filled with thousands of men sent to storm bridges without cover, to cross rivers without cover, to build railroads under fire, to go first into battle without artillery support, without tanks or rifles for each man. In penal battalions, the men were given alternating rifles. When the man next to you fell, you picked up his rifle, unless it was you who fell. Penal battalions were Soviet walls of men sent before Hitler’s firing squads.

Mekhlis was silent. “Anything to add, Major? Oh, and you are formally relieved of your rank.”

“That’s fine. I’m being asked to be part of a battalion, not to command the men, correct?”

“Incorrect. You are being ordered to command the men.”

“In that case, I have to keep my rank.”

“You cannot keep your rank.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I cannot command a squirrel, much less
hardened and fearless men in a penal battalion constantly under threat of death without authority bestowed on me by the Red Army. If you want me to be in charge, you have to give me the tools required to command men. Otherwise I will be no good to the Red Army, no good to the war effort and no good to you. The men will not obey a single order from me, the railroad will remain unbuilt, and supply people and soldiers will perish. You cannot ask me to remain in the army—”

“I’m not asking you, I’m ordering you.”

“Sir, put me in a penal battalion, certainly, but do not ask me to be in charge. I will be an NCO, a sergeant, a corporal, whatever you decide is fine with me. But if you actually want to use me to the army’s advantage, I must keep my bars.” Alexander was unflinching when he said, “Certainly you as a
general
understand that better than anyone. Have you forgotten General Meretskov? He sat in the dungeons of Moscow waiting for his execution. The powers-that-be decided he should command the Volkhov front instead. So he was promoted to general and given an army instead of just a division. How do you think he would have fared commanding his army as the peasant he actually was? How many men do you think he would have been able to send to their deaths if he had been a non-commissioned corporal instead of a commissioned general? Do you want to get the Germans out of Sinyavino Heights? I will get them out for you. But I must keep my rank.”

Mekhlis was staring at Alexander with frank, resigned understanding. “You have worn me out, Major Belov. You will be sent to Sinyavino in one hour. The guard will escort you back to your cell to collect your things. I will demote you and allow you to keep the rank of captain, but that is all. Where are your medals?”

Alexander wanted to smile but didn’t. “Taken from me before the interrogation. I’m missing the
Hero of the Soviet Union
medal.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Mekhlis said.

“Yes, sir, it is. I also need new BDUs, new weapons, and new supplies. I need a knife, and a tent—I need new gear, sir. My old gear has disappeared.”

“Have to keep better track of your equipment, Major Belov.”

Alexander saluted him. “I’ll keep that in mind. And it’s Captain Belov, sir.”

Running into Ouspensky, 1943

A
LEXANDER WAS ESCORTED TO
the rear of the current front, where he resupplied himself, dressed appropriately and rode in a truck to the barracks that housed a penal battalion of hundreds of used-up men, men who were either criminals or political survivors. They were on the wet ground resting, smoking, playing cards. Three of them were engaged in a fight which Alexander broke up. One of the men in the struggle was Nikolai Ouspensky.

“Oh, no, not you,” said Ouspensky.

“What the hell are you doing here, soldier?” Alexander said, shaking his hand. “You have only one lung.”

“What are
you
doing here? I was sure you were dead,” Ouspensky said cheerfully. “I thought they shot you. Certainly after the interrogation I got on your behalf I thought nothing would be left of
you.
”

Alexander offered Nikolai a cigarette and led him away. “What’s your rank here? Are you a corporal?”

“I’m still a lieutenant,” Ouspensky said indignantly and then quieter, “demoted from first to second lieutenant.”

“Good. I am your commanding officer. Choose twenty men and take them to lay the tracks for the train to get through. Do me a favor and don’t fight with your charges anymore. It diminishes your authority.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Go pick your men. Who was your superior officer before me?”

“You’re joking. No one. We had three captains die in the last two weeks. Then they started sending the majors to the railroad. Two of them died. We’ve got no one left. The idiots have not yet figured out that if the Germans have such a good view of the railroad they’re constantly blowing up, they have just as good a view of the vertical men who are fixing it. Just this morning we lost five men before we laid a single millimeter of track.”

“Let’s see how we do under the cover of night.”

It turned out not much better. Twenty men went with Ouspensky, and
thirteen came back, including Ouspensky. Out of the thirteen, three were injured critically, two were superficially wounded, and one man was blind.

The blind man escaped in the night, was stopped at the Lake Ladoga shore and shot on the spot by the NKGB.

The army base between Sinyavino Heights and Lake Ladoga was set up on a flat, boggy stretch of land with canvas tents and some wooden structures erected for the colonels and the brigadier generals. Two battalions were quartered here, comprising six companies, eighteen platoons, and fifty-four squads, 432 men in all. Because of a lack of commanding officers, Alexander had a battalion all to himself, 216 men he could send to their deaths.

Stepanov was not here. Alexander didn’t get to see Stepanov again after the tribunal hearing. He must have gone back to the Leningrad garrison, his only home for many years. Alexander hoped so.

Meeting Dasha Metanova, 1941

Alexander was at Sadko, standing near the bar as usual. He preferred going to the officers’ club; he found it awkward socializing with noncoms. The gulf between them was too large now.

On this June Saturday night, Alexander was standing talking to Dimitri when two girls came and stood near them. He glanced at them briefly. The second time he looked, he found one of them staring at him with frank interest. He smiled politely. Dimitri turned his head, looked them both over, raised his eyes at Alexander, and stepped around so the two men could face the two women.

“Could we buy you girls a beer?” Dimitri asked.

“Sure,” said the taller, darker one. She was the one who had been staring at Alexander. Dimitri was making friendly conversation with the shorter, less attractive one. It was hard to talk in the bar. Alexander asked if the dark girl wanted to go for a walk. She smiled. “Sure.”

They went outside into the warm barely dusky night. It was just after midnight, and still quite light out. The girl sang a bit, then took his hand and laughed into his face. “So am I going to have to guess,” she asked, “or will you tell me your name?”

“Alexander,” he said, and did not ask for hers because he had trouble remembering names.

“Aren’t you going to ask me my name?”

He smiled. “You sure you want me to know?”

She looked at him with surprise. “Do I want you to know what my name is? Is that what you soldiers have regressed to? You don’t even ask the girl’s name anymore?”

“Hey, listen,” said Alexander, patting her. “I don’t know what the other soldiers regressed to. I just know that I tend to forget names.”

“Well, maybe after tonight, you will never forget my name.” She smiled suggestively.

Slightly shaking his head, Alexander wanted to tell her that she would have to do something pretty extraordinary for him not to forget her name, but he said nothing except, “All right. What’s your name?”

“Daria,” she said. “But everyone calls me Dasha.”

“All right, Daria-Dasha. Do you have a place you want to take me to? Is anyone at home?”

“Is anyone at home? Where are you living? Of course. I’m never alone for a second. I’ve got everybody at home. Mama, Papa, Babushka, Dedushka, my brother. And my sister sleeps in the same bed as me.” She raised her eyebrows and laughed. “I think even an officer would have trouble having two sisters at the same time?”

“It depends,” Alexander said, putting his arm around her. “What does your sister look like?”

“About twelve,” Dasha replied. “Is there anywhere
you
can take me?”

Alexander took her to his barracks. It was his turn tonight.

Dasha asked if she should undress. “I don’t want anyone to walk in on us.”

“Well, this is the army barracks,” said Alexander, “not the European Hotel. Undress, Dasha, but at your own peril.”

“Are you going to undress?”

“They’ve all seen
me
,” Alexander pointed out.

Dasha undressed, and so did Alexander.

He enjoyed her as much as many other girls. Her body was a typical Russian fleshy body—large hips, large breasts—the kind that drove men like his quartermate Grinkov crazy. What Alexander liked about Dasha, though, was a slightly familiar quality, a friendly, easy-going manner that came from knowing someone a while. Also, her response to him was somewhat above the mill. She actually said, “Oh, my…Alexander,
where
do you come from?”

They had an hour together until Grinkov came back with a girl and wouldn’t take no-it’s-not-your-day for an answer.

After they dressed, Alexander walked Dasha to the sentry gate. “So, tell me,” she asked, “are you going to remember my name next week when I come by?”

“Sure…Dasha, right?” He smiled.

Next week she came by with her friend again; unfortunately Dimitri had already gone with someone else, and Dasha didn’t want to leave her friend in the lurch. The three of them ended up walking down Nevsky Prospekt together. Then—finally—her friend caught a bus back home, and Alexander took Dasha back to the barracks, where it wasn’t his turn and his quarters were already full.

“You’ve got two choices,” Alexander said. “You can either go home, or come inside and ignore the other soldiers.”

Dasha looked at him. He couldn’t quite tell what was in her eyes. “Well,” she said, “why not? My mother and father have to ignore us kids as we pretend to sleep. Are they sleeping?”

“Not even close,” said Alexander.

“Oh. That’s a bit too strange for me.”

Alexander nodded. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

“No, it’s all right.” She came up close to him. “I had a really good time last week.”

Alexander paused. “Me too,” he said. “Let’s go to the Admiralty Gardens.”

The third Saturday night he met her, they found a quiet place under the embankment of the Moika Canal, where the boats quayed. It was secluded enough and Dasha didn’t make any noise, and Alexander had certainly trained himself not to utter a sound. There was nowhere for Dasha to lie down, but Alexander could sit.

“Alex—do you mind if I call you Alex?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

“Alex, tell me something about yourself.” Dasha smiled at him. “You’re very interesting.”

They had finally finished, and he was hoping to get back. He wanted to sleep. His Sunday morning began at seven regardless of how late the girls kept him up. “Why don’t you tell me something about
your
self?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Many soldiers before me?”

“Not many.” Dasha smiled. “Alexander, you don’t want to be having
that
conversation. Because then I’ll have a question for you.”

“All right.”

“Many women before me?”

He smiled. “Not many.”

She laughed.

He laughed, too.

“I tell you what, Alex. Since I met you three weeks ago, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Really?”

“Really. And I haven’t been with any men since then.” She paused. “Can you say the same?”

“Absolutely. I haven’t been with any men since then either.”

She punched him lightly. “Stop. You have time for more?”

“No.” He didn’t want to tell her he didn’t have another condom. “Come and see me next week. I’ll have time then.”

“Come on,” she said teasingly, her hands on him. “I promise it’ll be quick.”

“No, Dasha. Next week.”

After Dasha left and Alexander returned to the barracks, he found a girl in the corridor that he had been with back in May, a girl who was friendly and drunk and attractive and who would not stop or would not leave until he unbuttoned his trousers. Alexander unbuttoned his trousers.

And the week was long, and during the week, Alexander had sentry duty which included a couple of girls Dimitri had set up for them. When Saturday night came, Alexander went to Sadko, having only a cursory interest in getting together with a girl, as in, it’s Saturday night, so he might as well. He ran into one he hadn’t seen for a while, and after having a couple of drinks and buying her a couple of drinks, he went to the back alley of Sadko and had her against the wall, and when she said, “Aren’t you going to throw your cigarette out?” he was surprised it was still in his mouth. He sent the girl home and returned to Sadko.

He felt arms go around his head and a voice say, “Guess who.”

It was Dasha. He smiled. She had come alone this time.

He thought he was finished for tonight. But Dasha’s evening was just beginning, so Alexander felt obliged to buy her a few beers and talk to her. They smoked, joked a bit, and then she pulled him out of the bar. “Dasha, it’s getting late,” he said. “I’ve got to be up tomorrow at seven.”

“I know,” she said, rubbing his arm. “You’re always in a hurry. Always rushing off somewhere. What’s the hurry, Alex?”

Sighing, he looked at her with wearied amusement. “What are you proposing?”

“I don’t know.” She smiled. “Same as last week?”

He tried to remember. For some reason last week had flown out of his head. He could see that if he didn’t remember it would upset Dasha, and so he tried. But between last week and this week there had been…he tried to focus his mind. There had been much talk of imminent war.

“Don’t you remember? Down by the parapets on Moika?”

Now he recalled. He had taken her down by the canal. “You want to go there again?”

“More than anything.”

“Let’s go.”

Afterward, it was nearly one. “Alexander,” she said, sitting on top of him, panting, “I must say, you’re quite a strenuous lover…and I don’t say that lightly.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you having a good time?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“What do you want to talk about?”

She laughed. “Do you feel we’re saying it all?”

“We’re saying all I need to.”

“You want to meet next week?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have a free day? Maybe you can come to my place for dinner? I don’t live too far from here. On Fifth Soviet. You can meet the family.”

“I don’t have many free days.”

“What about Monday or Tuesday?”

“This Monday or Tuesday?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see. No, wait, I’ve got to—listen, maybe in a week or so.”

“We can’t keep meeting like this.”

“No?”

“Well, we could.” She grinned. “But maybe we could go somewhere?”

“Where would you like to go?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere nicer. Maybe to Tsarskoye Selo, or Peterhof?”

“Maybe,” he said noncommittally, lifting her off, getting up, stretching. “It’s getting late, Dash. I have to get back.”

He returned to base where he sat for a few minutes with Sergeant Ivan Petrenko, the sentry, sharing some vodka and a cigarette before he went back to his quarters.

“You think the rumors are true, Lieutenant? You think we’re going to war with Hitler?”

“I think it’s unavoidable, Sergeant, yes.”

“But how is it possible? It’s like England going to war with France. Germany and the Soviet Union have been allies for nearly two years. We signed a pact.”

“And divided Poland just like old friends.” Alexander smiled. “Petrenko, do you trust Hitler?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he’ll be stupid enough to invade us.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” said Alexander, stubbing out his cigarette. “Good night.”

All he wanted was to go to sleep; why was that so much to ask? But both Marazov
and
Grinkov were with women on their beds, covered with sheets up to their hair. Alexander averted his glance as he climbed atop his bunk, put a pillow over his head, and closed his eyes.

“Alexander,” he heard a strident female voice say. “You
bastard.
”

Sighing heavily, he pulled the pillow off and opened his eyes. The girl who had just been with Grinkov was standing in front of his bunk. Behind him, Alexander heard Grinkov chuckling.

“What did I do?” he asked tiredly. He recognized her slightly bloated, greatly drunken face.

“Don’t you remember? You told me last week to come and meet you here tonight. I waited for three hours for you at the damn gate! Finally, I gave up and went to Sadko and what do I see but you making time with some girl who is not
me.
”

Alexander did not want to get up, but he felt that at any second he was going to be slapped, and he didn’t want to be slapped while he was lying down. “I’m really sorry,” he said, rising and sitting with his legs dangling off the bunk. He vaguely remembered her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”