The Scarlet Generation

by Christopher Nicole

  “I am. He’s very upset about it.”

  “Well, so would I be, if I’d broken my ankle.”

  “It’s not just that. Seems he was going on some special mission. Now that’s lost. I don’t know what it was all about.”

  Elaine licked her lips. “I do.”

  *

  Spring in the Pripet was marked by noise; the cracking of the ice. Winter was an abnormally quiet time, except when gale-force winds whipped blizzards through the gaunt trees. For the rest, there were no birds to sing, no fish to splash. And very little human movement.

  It was not that the partisans were too cold to operate, although even in their polushubki and their telogreiki, their valenki and their fur hats, their thermal underwear and thick socks, they existed in a constant state of near freezing which made their sleeping bags more attractive than trekking across country. It was not even that they were on reduced rations throughout the cold months — which made the cold harder to bear — or that their weapons also had a tendency to freeze up. It was mainly because the winter left them too exposed. Even at night, and wearing white, they showed up against the white landscape unless moving very slowly and carefully...and since the incident with the patrol the Germans had kept their distances. Thus it had been a restful time, and as the batteries for Olga’s radio had run down, and the replacements dropped had been lost, they were even cut off from orders or criticisms from their superiors.

  Tatiana had used her time as well as she could in constant training, but both she and Feodor had to devote a great deal of their time to the maintenance of morale. Even before the radio had given out the overall picture had been grim. If the Germans had apparently been held for the time being, they were still in places within 50 miles of Moscow, and most good judges seemed to realise that they had been checked less by the Russian resistance than by the Russian weather. But spring was coming. Since the radio silence, there was no indication that things were improving, from a Russian point of view. The railway bridge had been repaired, and was now very heavily guarded, while trains continued to rumble to the east with monotonous regularity. The partisans had had to range farther afield, and accomplished very little. The massacre of the German patrol had been about their greatest coup, and however gratifying and amusing had it been to watch the naked men freezing to death and listen to their pleas for mercy through blue lips and chattering teeth, no one could imagine that murdering nine men was going to make any difference to the German war machine.

  Tatiana was keenly aware of her failure to do as much as might have been hoped, and she was determined to recommence a campaign of terror as soon as the weather improved. She felt that despite all the hardship, the casualties, the uncertainty, she had a good team under her. It only numbered 57 now, and that included some new recruits, escapees from Brest-Litovsk. But one of these had been Valya Malevicha, the widow of a doctor who had been shot by the Germans for aiding a Jew to escape. Valya was as anxious to avenge her husband’s death as anyone, but she was more valuable for her medical knowledge than her fighting skill; although not qualified, she had assisted her husband in his surgery and at his operating table, and even more important, she had managed to bring some of his equipment, and a few drugs, with her.

  Both Shatrav and Feodor grumbled that more people should have joined them, but Tatiana considered this failure to attract larger numbers of recruits was actually a blessing in disguise. As rations for 100 for three months had also been dropped at the commencement of winter, it really meant that she had virtually two sets of rations for every person. Additionally, every remaining member of her band was now a tough and trained commando, adept in using all of his or her weapons, inured to hardship, and totally subservient to the demands of their youthful commissar. She had also been able to use the excuse of shortage of numbers to have Valya Malevicha perform abortions upon the five women who had become pregnant rather than execute them.

  In acting thus she knew she was breaking the rules, and would thus be subject herself to condemnation and death when the war was over. She could only hope that by the time that happened her people would have become so loyal to her they would not denounce her; or that by her deeds she would have become a Heroine of the Soviet Union, and be able to rise above the odd disobedience of orders. What disturbed her was that while Feodor had not attempted to countermand any of her orders, she had been able to tell by the look in his eyes that he clearly disapproved. Of course he was both her step-brother and her lover, but even more than that he was a dedicated believer in the rule of Soviet authority.

  She was closer friends now with Valya. Valya was very knowledgeable about the German activities in Brest-Litovsk, at least before she had fled following her husband’s arrest. She was a small, surprisingly petite woman, with short, crisp yellow hair and matching features, who almost disappeared without trace into her winter woollies. But despite her personal tragedy she retained a sense of humour and a lively mind. She had told Tatiana that the Germans in Brest-Litovsk were in an entirely relaxed frame of mind. They had been agitated by the blowing up of the railway bridge back in the autumn, and even more so by the murder of their patrol just before Christmas. But in the couple of months since then they had determined that this particular band of partisans had either broken up, gone away, or died. “Then they are vulnerable,” Tatiana said, standing on the edge of the trees and peering out across the snow. A train chugged by on the track two miles away, but there was no other movement to be seen.

  “It is a very long way away,” Valya pointed out.

  Tatiana nodded. “But if we can do it and get away with it, it would be a triumph.”

  Chapter 7 – The Masters

  “Let me get this straight,” Joseph said, looking from face to face. “You have sent my stepson and his woman friend into the Pripet Marshes? Several hundred miles behind German lines?”

  “We did not send them,” Ivan Ligachev protested. “They volunteered. That group of partisans needs a medical team. We had one all lined up to go, and then its leader had an accident and broke his ankle. We were seeking a replacement when Mr Bolugayevski and Miss Mitchell volunteered. We thought it was a splendid gesture.”

  “The terms of the agreement were that none of our people should be sent into a war zone.”

  “Oh, come now, Joseph, all of Russia is a war zone. European Russia, certainly.”

  “And to do it without informing me...”

  “These operations are necessarily secret. They have to be.”

  “If they are taken by the Germans, they will be tortured and executed!”

  “My Tatiana has been there for more than six months,” Jennie said quietly.

  “I am sure that is one of the reasons Alexei volunteered,” Ivan said eagerly. “To be with his cousin.”

  “He has never met his cousin,” Joseph said.

  “He has been here, and seen her photograph,” Ivan pointed out. But he took Elaine with him, Joseph thought. Oh, the crazy young fool, who couldn’t make up his mind whether he was Russian or American, or even which Russia he was fighting for. Only that he had to fight. And what was he going to tell Priscilla, who was coming to Moscow to be with her son?

  As with the arrival of Feodor and Olga, it was not possible for the partisans to locate the drops until it was daylight, which was eight o’clock the next morning. Then they went out in several bands, to cover as wide an area as possible, while keeping in sight of each other. It was Gregory’s group that sighted the first chute, lying on a hummock of land. There was another close by, but this was on an ice-covered stretch of marsh; the container had smashed the ice and was half in and half out of the water beneath. Gregory whistled to summon the rest. His people were already opening the first container. “Food!” Natasha said. “Tins of food, chocolate, coffee, milk. Tremendous!”

  “So we will have a feast,” Tatiana said, panting up to them, her breath coagulating into ice crystals before the scarf she had wound round her face. “Let’s get that one.”
/>   “The ice is not thick enough to bear a man’s weight,” Gregory pointed out.

  “Then we must drag it ashore. Break a branch from that tree.”

  This was done, and after several efforts by Gregory, with three men forming a back-up, the first holding him round the waist, the branch was lodged in a fold of the chute and pulled ashore. Then it was just a matter of dragging in the container, which was very heavy, and because it had struck the brittle ice rather than solid ground it had not split open. Gregory and Shatrav prised up the lid. “Grenades,” Shatrav said. “Machine-guns! Ammunition.”

  Now, Tatiana thought, we can really carry out an offensive!

  “And what are these?” Natasha asked, taking out one of the strange objects.

  “Anti-tank rockets,” Shatrav told her. “But there is no launcher.”

  “People!” Olga said.

  They turned, their weapons thrust forward, to see three people coming through the trees towards them. Two were men, carrying another container between them. The third was a woman, from her long dark hair, although she was dressed as a man. Surprisingly, Tatiana thought, only one of the men was armed, not the woman. The elder of the two men — Tatiana reckoned he was in his forties, with a pock-marked, stern face — looked over the ragged band. “You must be Tatiana Gosykinya,” he remarked.

  “I am Commissar Gosykinya,” Tatiana said, not wishing him to be under any misapprehension. She was more interested in the reaction of the two younger people to her name. The man was in his middle or late twenties, she estimated, big and strong and good-looking, with yellow hair: there was something vaguely familiar about his features, although she could not think where they might have met. The woman was about the same age, also tall and handsome, although somewhat slightly built. But both of them had definitely heard her name before.

  “I am Colonel Peter Gerasimov,” the elder man said. “I have come to take command of this group.”

  Feodor and Tatiana exchanged frowns. “I am the Commissar,” Tatiana said.

  “But I have been placed over you,” Gerasimov said, equably. “I have a letter of instruction from State Secretary Ligachev.”

  “Show this letter to me.”

  “When we have found somewhere slightly warmer than this,” Gerasimov said. “There is also this gear to be transported.” He tapped the container he and the young man had been carrying. “Medical supplies, and a special present. I will show you later.”

  Tatiana was still trying to digest the fact that she had been superseded in command on the orders of her own stepfather! “And who are these people?” she inquired.

  “Medical staff,” Gerasimov told her. “This is Dr Alexei Bolugayevski, and Dr Elaine Mitchell. They are Americans, come to Russia to serve with us against the Germans.”

  “Did you say Alexei Bolugayevski?” Tatiana asked.

  Alexei grinned as he came forward to embrace her. “I am your cousin.”

  “You have made yourselves very comfortable here,” Gerasimov observed, sitting before the fire between the twin row of huts.

  In the food container there had been several well-wrapped bottles of vodka, and the partisans were busily getting drunk. Even Tatiana had felt like a drink; she supposed she needed one to find her way through this sudden morass of unexpected developments. Now she sat beside the man who, apparently, had the power to have her arrested, or even shot! Ligachev’s doing! She passed the letter of instruction to Feodor. She wished she had had the opportunity to discuss the situation with him, but that had not yet arisen. She looked across the fire at Alexei Bolugayevski, sitting between Valya and the American woman, but who spent most of his time staring at her, which was not going unnoticed by his fellow doctor. Tatiana presumed they slept together. It would have been odd had they not.

  “I wish you to be very clear about one thing,” Gerasimov said. “I have not come here to discipline you, Comrade Commissar, or to reduce your rank.”

  “It is a very strange thing for a Commissar to be outranked by an army officer,” Feodor commented.

  “These are strange times. It is the wish of our great leader that the partisans in the Pripet show more activity. There has been very little activity over the past few months.”

  “It has been all we could do to keep ourselves alive over the past few months, Comrade.”

  “Nonetheless, other groups, and many farther north than this, have operated throughout the winter. Your work here has been disappointing. So has your lack of communication with Moscow.”

  “The batteries for our radio have gone flat.” Olga was seated with the command party.

  “I have brought you new batteries, and more will be dropped regularly. You must report on a regular basis.” He gave another of his slightly sour grins. “But you must have something to report. That is why it is necessary for you to make things happen.”

  “I understand this,” Tatiana said. “I have already formed an initial plan.” She outlined what she had in mind. Gerasimov stroked his chin as he listened.

  “That would be a splendid coup,” he said when she had finished. “To carry the war right into the heart of the city...but it may be costly.”

  “We are prepared for that.” But she could not resist adding, “Will you lead us, Comrade Colonel?”

  “That would be pointless, you know the terrain and I do not.” He watched her lip curl in contempt, and grinned. “But I shall accompany you, certainly, and serve under your command, Comrade Commissar. As I said, I have been sent here to make sure you fight, not to tell you how to fight.” He pointed to the bazooka, which was his ‘present’ to them. “You will need me to fire that.”

  “I hope you do not feel that we are muscling in on your territory,” Alexei said to Valya. “Moscow was not aware that this group already had a doctor.”

  “I am not a doctor,” Valya explained. “My husband was a doctor, and I assisted him.”

  “And your husband isn’t here now?” Elaine asked.

  “My husband is dead. He was murdered by the Germans.”

  Elaine looked at Alex for help. “I am sure he will be avenged,” Alex said.

  “That is our intention, yes,” Valya said.

  Tatiana came round the fire. “Walk with me, cousin,” she said. Alex hastily scrambled to his feet.

  Elaine watched them go into the trees. “She’s very beautiful,” she remarked. “I suppose she’s killed a lot of Germans?”

  “Yes,” Valya agreed.

  Elaine licked her lips and hastily dried them again on her sleeve, before they froze. “Have you? Killed a lot of Germans, I mean?”

  “I have not killed any Germans yet,” Valya said. “I have been the medical officer. But now that you are here, I expect to begin killing Germans.”

  “Oh! You mean we’re not required to kill any?”

  “Only in self-defence,” Valya said.

  “Oh!” Elaine said again. Colonel Gerasimov had talked about nothing else but killing Germans on the flight from Moscow. While it had never in her life occurred to Elaine that she might ever have to kill anyone. But they were all in it now. All the boys she had grown up with, and who would not have hurt a fly save on the football field, were now in uniform and being taught how to kill, and then being sent out to kill. She supposed she was the lucky one. Only in self-defence! She was not sure she could kill anyone, even in self-defence.

  “So,” Tatiana said. “You are the only surviving son of the late Prince Bolugayevski. That must mean that you claim the title for yourself.” Ice crunched beneath their feet as they walked through the trees, away from the huts, and their breaths clouded before their faces. Yet was it warmer today than yesterday, and the noise of the ice breaking in the swamp was almost continuous, as if the entire surface of the earth was cracking.

  “In my more romantic moments,” Alex confessed.

  She glanced at him. “It would not be good for my people to know of these romantic moments. What are you doing in Russia at all?”

  Al
ex explained.

  “And you have stayed, even though America is now in the War?” said Tatiana.

  “We felt we were doing an essential job here in Russia.”

  “We? You and this woman? Is she your woman?”

  “We have an understanding,” Alex said, carefully.

  Tatiana appraised him for some seconds. Then she said, “We are engaged in a serious business. It is not a joke, an adventure, a game of cowboys and Indians. Do you understand this?”

  “I have spent the last four months working in a hospital in Moscow. We both have. We are not quite wet behind the ears.”

  “You have been involved in a clean war. This is a dirty war.”

  “Is there such a thing as a clean war?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe all wars are dirty. But there are degrees of dirt. This is the bottom line. You must not be taken alive. Even more, your woman must not be taken alive. You understand this?”

  Alex swallowed. “Yes.”

  “I am telling you this, not only for your own sakes, but for the sakes of all of us. We have very strict rules. When we go into action, the wounded who cannot make it to the swamp by themselves must be destroyed.”

  “That is barbarous! What a word. Destroyed!”

  “Nevertheless, it is a rule which must be obeyed. Anyone failing to obey it will be executed himself, or herself. As our medical officers, you will be principally responsible for implementing this rule.”

  “You mean you cannot trust your own people? You are afraid that if they are captured and interrogated by the Germans they will lead them to your camp.”

  Tatiana snorted. “Interrogated! What civilised words you use. Yes, Comrade Cousin. I am afraid that we will be betrayed by any prisoners we lose. Not because I do not trust them, but because the truth will be tortured out of them, very slowly, and very painfully. After that they will die anyway. Therefore we, you, would be committing an act of mercy by making sure that that does not happen. There can be no argument about this.”

  He remembered that Tatiana was just 19 years old. “And if the wounded person is you, Comrade Commissar?”