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.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 7474 Red Sniper on the Eastern Frontand submachine-guns opened up behind us.Bullets whistled over ourheads.We dropped to the earth and began to look around.The Germanshad quickly overcome their initial confusion.After the initial fusillade,they ceased their wild firing and became quiet.Probably noticing thetracks we had left in the dew-covered grass, they resumed firing and setout in pursuit of us.Crawling was now pointless.We leaped to our feetand started running for the forest.There Vladimirov met us; he washolding thick folders and two map cases.On the forest path, along which we were retreating, Private Ushakovstopped us and reported to Senior Lieutenant Kruglov: ComradeCommander, you can t take this path any further. Why? Germans are in the woods.At first they were shouting, like cattledrivers on a roundup, but now they ve fallen silent.They want to blockour passage through the swamp.Once again, we had evidence that our foe was not stupid.Kruglovstudied us, and then gave Sidorov a friendly clap on the shoulder: Well,I don t think the fascists can block the entire swamp.We ll get through.Sidorov spat on his hands and wiped them: We ll break through,Comrade Commander, and we ll deliver the folders with the papers ontime.Hurrying through the forest undergrowth, we kept running into drybrush, scratching our faces and hands until they were bloody.Havingseparated from our pursuers, we entered a patch of dense, tall reeds.Theground began to move beneath our feet like bread dough.Struggling stepby step, our feet sinking in the wet bog, we moved deeper and deeper intothe tangled vegetation.We beat the Germans by only a few minutes.We hadn t even managedto get 300 metres through the swamp, when we could hear German voicesand the yipping of dogs behind us.But fortunately, further on the swampwas dry.This allowed us to separate from our pursuers quickly.Sidorov, catching up with the Red Army man we had earlier takenprisoner , who was taking a gun sight to his wife as a gift, said, You,brother, forgive us: it was dark, and we couldn t make out who you were.The soldier replied, You treated me well, don t say a word about it.Nowmy ears are ringing, but on the other hand I m home. Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 75Chapter NineIn the Vicinity of RopshaThe rays of the rising sun were glinting off the stalks of ripened wheat.The rye stalks were drooping under their heavy burden of grain.I was lying in a foxhole, looking at the waving field of grain andthinking, Where is that fellow now, who ploughed this field and thenscattered the seed on the fragrant, freshly-turned soil? Perhaps he too isnow gazing from a foxhole on a field of grain and yearning for peacefullabour.Volodya Sidorov was lying beside me.He was a sharp-witted man witha good memory; he could more quickly and accurately evaluate a complexcombat situation than anyone.He always knew how to pick the bestposition in combat.His small, clever eyes were always smiling on hissimple, snub-nosed face.When speaking with a comrade, he loved to claphim on the back.His entire character showed in the sweeping andconfident movements of a sniper.Even now, we had dug our positionclose to the highway at his insistence.Things had been quiet for two days.We were already thinking that theenemy s advance had at last been stopped.But now on the morning of7 September, an enemy shell exploded in our battalion s sector.Itsignalled the start of savage fighting for the city of Ropsha.With each minute the artillery fire intensified: hundreds of guns onboth sides were taking part in it.The air was filled with the thunder ofexplosions and the screech of metal.Fires were burning furiously allaround.As always during an artillery barrage, a continuous roar filled yourhead, and your face and hands gradually became blackened with soot.Aterrible thirst would develop.It seemed that a single swallow of waterwould immediately soothe you and reinvigorate you.This agonizing condition would last until you saw the first helmet ofan enemy soldier.As soon as this helmet with its distinctive protectiveskirt appeared, you immediately forgot about everything else: thirst,fatigue, the noise in your head.You became overwhelmed with one desire to kill the fascist.You saw a foe and you rejoiced at his death.75 Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 7676 Red Sniper on the Eastern FrontWith our faces pressed into the sandy soil, my partner Sidorov and Ioccasionally exchanged glances.How it happened, I never noticed: butwhen I took another glance at Volodya, he was sprawled on his side, hisface covered with blood.I pressed my ear to his chest he was dead.Just a minute before, Sidorov had told me: Breathe evenly, and don topen your mouth so widely.Don t let your heart pound, or else you llspoil your aim. Volodya, giving me a wink, had added: Soon it will beour turn to shoot. He had noticed that my mouth was wide open, as I wasgasping for air from the nearly suffocating smoke of the explosives.Sidorov, smiling, looked away and continued to keep watch over the road.All this had happened just a minute before, and now he was lying therewith a bloody face, his skull split open by a large shell fragment.I didn t want to believe that Vladimir was dead.Over and over again,I pressed my ear against his chest with the hope of catching at least amuffled heartbeat.But the sniper s heart had stopped.He was dead, stilltightly clutching his rifle.I lay next to my dead friend, full of resolve toguard his body to my last cartridge.As soon as the artillery firing ceased,Major Chistyakov s order followed: Fall back to the ravine!I picked up Vladimir s body and placed it on my back, taking one moreglance at a grain stalk next to our foxhole, which by some miracle hadsurvived the storm of fire.The head, dusted with soot, continued to rockon its slender stalk. Such a life force is in it! I thought to myself.I beganto crawl back to the ravine.It was difficult to crawl across the torn-up fieldwith my comrade s body, but I couldn t leave it behind.In the ravine, one of our artillerymen ran up to me and asked despair-ingly, You re retreating again? No, we re not retreating; we re taking up new positions. I took myspade out of its case and began to dig a grave. Is that your commander? the artilleryman enquired. No, not the commander a friend.Bodrov and Ulyanov came up to me.Together we silently buried ourcomrade sniper, the communist Vladimir Andreyevich Sidorov
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