Doomed to live

2024 Author: Seth Attwood | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-16 15:55

The attacker Matryona knew already in February that the war would begin in June. So she told everyone who had gathered at the selmag that on the twenty-second, near morning, German bombs would fall on people, and iron ingots with white crosses would crawl across the ground, like pregnant spiders. The peasants darkened: Matryona wouldn’t say a word in vain. No matter what they say in the newspapers, if the epileptic said, then everything will come out according to her.

And so it all happened.

Then both men and women went to the seizure Matryona, asking when the war would end, and what would happen to everyone. Only Matryona was silent, she only twisted her crooked eyes, and creaked her teeth, as if she was completely ill.

Only Kolya Zhukhov said a word, although he did not ask her about it.

- You will go, Kolya, to the war when your wife gives you twins. You won't die in the war yourself, but you will lose them all …

The epileptic tightly grabbed Kolya, no matter how hard he tried to shake her off, and she kept hanging on him and broadcasting terrible things:

“Neither a bullet nor an enemy bayonet will kill you. But there won't be our victory, Kolya. We will all die. You will live alone. Neither the people, nor the country. Hitler the damned will burn everything, he will destroy everything to the root!

Kolya did not say anything to anyone then. And he went to the front on the same day when his wife gave birth to twins: the boy was named Ivan, and the girl was named Varya. He did not have time to see or kiss them. So he fought for almost a year, not knowing the children of his relatives. It was later, in retreat, that a tiny photograph with a blue brand at the bottom caught up with him and with an inscription that had been embedded in circulation, made with a chemical pencil: "To our defender, papule."

Kolya was crying, looking at that card, reading those words.

He kept it in his heart, in a copper cigarette case.

And every day, every hour, every minute I was afraid - but how did Matrenin's word come true ?! Well, how is everything that he now has - only this photograph ?!

From time to time they found his letters from his homeland - and a little heart let go, a little limp soul: well, it means that a month ago they were alive; so, maybe now they live.

Kolya was scared.

Millions of times he cursed the seizure Matryona, as if it was she who was to blame for the war.

Kolya fought fiercely and desperately. I was not afraid of a bayonet or a bullet. One went to night reconnaissance. The first went up to the attack, was torn into hand-to-hand combat. His comrades shied away from him a little, called him wonderful. And he did not try to get along with them, to get closer. Already twice he was surrounded and went out to his own people alone, having lost all his friends, all his friends. No, Kolya was not looking for a new friendship, it was much easier for him to bury strangers and strangers. Only one exception happened somehow unintentionally: Kolya became friends with Chaldon Sasha - a solid, stern and reliable man. Only him and Kolya entrusted his difficult secret. He also told about Matryona that she had never been wrong. He looked gloomily at Kolya chaldon, listening; twisted his jaw. He did not answer, stood up in silence and walked away, wrapped himself in his greatcoat and fell asleep, leaning against the wall of the trench. Kolya took offense at him for such mental callousness. But at dawn, Sasha himself approached him, pushed him, grunted in a Siberian bass:

- I knew one shaman. He was a good kamlal and enjoyed great respect in the area. He once said to me: "You cannot change the unsaid, but you can change what is said."

- How's that? - Kolya did not understand.

- How do I know? Chaldon shrugged.

In October 1942, Kolya was wounded during shelling - a hot splinter scuffed over the skull, tore off a piece of skin with hair and stuck into the reel log. Kolya fell to his knees, clutching his buzzing head with his hands, looking at the black sharp piece of iron that almost took his life away - and again he heard the words of the seizure, but so clearly, so clearly, as if Matryona was standing next to him now and in his ear, with blood drenched, whispering: “You cannot die in war yourself. Neither a bullet nor an enemy bayonet will kill you."

Why, only death was not promised by a seizure! And she did not say anything about the injuries, about the concussions, she did not say anything. But how is fate even worse than previously thought? Maybe he will return from the war as a reasonable pig, a complete invalid - no arms, no legs; body and head!

After that injury, Kolya changed. Began to be cautious, began to be afraid. He confessed his fears to Sasha-chaldon alone. He listened to the "goat's leg", grunted, spat in the mud, and turned away. One day Kolya was waiting for his advice, another … On the third day he was offended.

And in the evening they were removed from their positions and led by a long march to a new place.

In December, Kolya ended up in his native land, but so close to home that his heart ached. The front rumbled nearby - in the blazing sky at night, not even the stars were visible. And without any Matryona, Kolya guessed that there were only a few days left before the war broke out in his homeland, crushing his village and hut. Kolya crumpled in his stiff hand a cigarette case with a photograph and choked with prickly bitterness, realizing his impotence. When it became completely unbearable, he came to the captain, began to ask that they let him go home at least for a couple of hours: to hug his wife, to cuddle his tiny son and daughter.

The captain squinted for a long time, looking at the map by the light of the smokehouse, measuring something out with a homemade compass. Finally nodded to his thoughts.

- Take, Zhukhov, five people. Take the height in front of your village. As soon as you dig in and make sure that everything is quiet, then you can visit your family.

Kolya saluted, turned around - he was both happy and scared, as if there was some kind of turbidity in his head, but a veil before his eyes. I came out of the dugout, broke my forehead on a log - and did not notice. I didn't remember how I got to my frozen cell. When I regained consciousness a little, I began to call out to the neighbors. Chaldon called Sasha with him. Muscovite Volodya. Bespectacled Venyu. Peter Stepanovich and his bosom friend Stepan Petrovich. I outlined the task to them. He promised fresh bread and fresh milk, if everything goes well.

We moved forward immediately: Sashka-chaldon had Tokarev's rifle, Volodya and Venya had Mosinki, Pyotr Stepanovich had a brand new PPSh, and Stepan Petrovich had a proven PPD. They got hold of pomegranates richly. Well, the main weapon of the infantry was also taken, of course, - shovels, crowbars - a trenching tool.

It is good to wade through the virgin snow only for sugrev, but there is little pleasure. So Kolya immediately led the detachment to the torny road. It was possible to run along the track rolled by a sled - they ran here and there, but with a look around, with caution. We walked six kilometers in two hours, met no one. They went around the side of the village, climbed to a height along the logging path, looked around, chose a place near the bushes, began to dig in, trying not to blacken the snow with the frozen ground taken out. Sashka-chaldon dug a shelter for himself under the bushes, camouflaged it with branches, and overlaid it with infusion. Nearby the Muscovite Volodya settled down: he dug out such mansions for himself, as if he was going to live here - he made an earthen step so that he could sit; parapet according to all the rules; a niche for grenades, a recess for a flask. The bespectacled man Venya did not make a trench, but a hole. He crawled into it, leaving the gun at the top, took a volume of Pushkin out of his pocket, and forgot himself, reading. Kolya Zhukhov, burrowing into the ground, looked unkindly at his neighbor, but was silent for the time being. He was in a hurry, hoping to run away to the village until the end of the day, to visit his own people - there she is, in full view; you can even see the hut a little - a pipe is smoking, so everything must be in order … Pyotr Stepanovich and Stepan Petrovich were digging one trench for two; they were not lazy, to a pine tree standing in the distance, they ran for fluffy branches; in the bushes, they cut down a few ills, folded something like a hut over the corner of the trench, sprinkled it with snow, lit a tiny fire at the bottom, boiled water with a lingonberry leaf in a kettle.

“You can live,” said Pyotr Stepanovich, stretching.

And he died.

A bullet hit the bridge of the nose, right at the edge of the helmet.

Stepan Petrovich gasped, picking up his settling friend, staining his blood, scalding himself with boiling water.

- I see! - Sashka-chaldon shouted from the bushes. - Christmas tree! On right!

Venya the bespectacled man dropped the book, stood behind the rifle, and slipped back into the pit, showered its edges, burying himself, dying.

- He hits right, you bastard, - said Sashka angrily, targeting the entrenched enemy. - Yes, and we are not bastard.

A shot slammed. Spruce paws swayed, shaking off the snow; a white shadow slid along the branches - as if a flour cullet had fallen from the top of a coniferous tree. And a second later, machine guns rumbled in rivalry from the forest, whipping up snow fountains, cutting off bushes.

Kolya realized that he could not keep up with him home today. By an inspiration to the animals, he sensed that the time had come for the terrible loss predicted by Matryona. He grabbed the cigarette case that was hidden in his breast pocket. And he rose to his full height, looking out for the enemy, not afraid of bullets or bayonets.

The explosions died down - and it was like stuffed with snow in your ears. He ran his hand over Kolya's face, looked at the blood - nothing, scratched! I saw a white figure behind the trees, took aim, fired. I jumped out of my trench; Without bending over, he ran over to Stepan Petrovich and pulled out a submachine gun from under Pyotr Stepanovich. Wheezed:

- Fire! Fire!

Right and left flashed shortly; the black earth splashed out onto the white snow, stained it, ate it up. Machine-gun bullets clattered on the frozen clods of the parapet. One burned Kolya's neck, but he brushed it off as if he were a bee, answered in the direction of the forest in a long line. I turned to Stepan Petrovich and saw how his eyes were getting cold and rolling. He rushed to the Muscovite Volodya.

- Why don't you shoot ?!

The explosion hit him hard in the side, knocking him off his feet. The ear burst; hot and viscous flowed in a thin trickle down to the cheekbone. Kolya got up, swaying. He looked heavily in the direction of the forest, where he went to pick mushrooms and berries as a boy. I saw white figures emerging onto a snow-covered meadow. And he got so furious, so furious, that he threw himself into hand-to-hand combat with machine guns. But he could not take two steps, stumbled, fell, buried his face in the hot snow, - inhaled it, swallowed.

Calmed down…

Kolya lay for a long time, thinking about an unjust fate. It should not be so that a soldier remains to live, and his family dies! This is wrong! It's dishonorable!

He stood up, stooping strongly. He passed by the dead Volodya, thrown out of the trench by the explosion. He sat down on the pitted snow near the soaked bushes. He shot three fascists, forced the rest to lie down. I saw an iron ingot with a cross on its hump crawling out from the side of the clearing, breaking birch trees. He said loudly, but hardly hearing himself:

- The seizure Matryona was never wrong.

Sashka-chaldon, black from earth and gunpowder, grabbed his hand:

- Come on into the trench! What, you fool, sat down?

Kolya turned around and moved away from his friend. Said sternly:

- Yes, only about me she will make a mistake …

In a hunting way, with an accurate shot, he knocked down Sashka, a Fritz who was trying to get up, and reached out to his friend, thinking that he was completely stupid from a concussion.

“If I die, there will be no power in her prediction,” Kolya muttered, moving away even further.

A nearby explosion showered earth on him. Machine-gun bullets pierced the overcoat.

- Only for sure you need to … - said Kolya, laying out the grenades in front of him. - So that there is no misfire, no accident … And then we will win … Then …

He turned to his friend, smiled broadly and brightly at him:

- Do you hear me, Sanya ?! Now I know for sure that we will win!

Kolya Zhukhov went to the Nazis alone - full-length, smiling, with his head held high. Coming down from the hill, he shot ammunition load of PPSh, PPD and two "mosinki". He hacked to death a German officer with a shovel, ignoring the burns of pistol shots. Then Kolya Zhukhov picked up a German machine gun and headed towards the enemy machine gunners. And he reached them, despite a punctured leg and a shot arm. Kolya Zhukhov laughed as he watched other people's soldiers flee from him.

And when a steel colossus with a cross finally grew behind him, breaking dead wood, Kolya Zhukhov calmly turned and hobbled towards her, not at all afraid of a course machine gun roaring at him. Making the last two steps, Kolya pulled off his overcoat beaten by bullets and pulled the checks from the grenades fixed on his chest. Calmly trying on, he lay down under a wide caterpillar. And when she was already crawling on him, he grabbed the truck with bloody fingers and with all his strength, wheezing from the strain, pulled him towards himself, as if he was afraid that some providence would stop the rumbling car.

A sparrow knocked on the window.

Ekaterina Zhukhova shuddered and crossed herself.

The children were asleep; even the recent shooting and explosions outside the outskirts did not bother them.

The walkers clicked.

The wick of the lamp crackled.

Catherine put down her pen, pushed aside the paper and inkwell.

She didn't know how to start a new letter.

Deep in thought, she dozed off unnoticed. And I woke up when the floorboard suddenly creaked loudly in the room.

- He's gone.

A black shadow stood at the threshold.

Catherine covered her mouth with her hands so as not to scream.

- He deceived me. He died, although he shouldn't have.

The black shadow moved closer to the stove. She sank onto the bench.

- Everything has changed. Live now. Now you can …

Ekaterina looked at the shaky area where Ivan and Varya were sleeping quietly. She pulled her trembling hands away from her face. She could not speak. It was impossible for her to howl and lament.

- Your Nikolai is not alone. There are more and more of them. And I don't know what will happen next …

The black shadow, sighing, slowly rose and moved. The light of the lamp flickered and went out - it became completely dark. The floorboards groaned at the inaudible footsteps - closer and closer. A ripple creaked by an invisible hand.

- I only know that now everything will be different …

In the morning Ekaterina Zhukhova found a cigarette case on the bench. Inside there was a small photograph, into the circulation of which an inscription made with a chemical pencil eaten forever.

And just below her, someone wrote in a man's unfamiliar handwriting - "He defended."

Author unknown.