‘He’s in charge here. Unfortunately, you two sleepyheads have missed breakfast. It was especially delicious this morning. Just kidding. It was vile as always. Yulya has many talents but cooking isn’t one of them. I don’t know why Papa made her cook.’ The girl wrinkled her nose in disapproval. ‘Here, I brought you some snow.’
‘To eat?’ Lisa glanced inside the bowl, hoping to see some porridge. Her stomach rumbled.
‘No, silly. To wash with.’
Lisa wondered how one could wash with a bowl of snow. She looked around. Masha was still asleep, curled up under her old woolly kerchief with only the top of her head visible. What time was it? It felt early. She could swear it was still dark outside.
‘I’m Anna, by the way. We are roommates. There were two more girls sleeping here. But one of them went back to Kiev and another …’ Anna’s cheerful face dimmed for a moment and she stopped talking.
‘What’s happening?’ Masha was awake and sitting up in bed.
‘What’s happening is that there is a big assembly outside. Everyone must attend. And you two are still in bed,’ said Anna.
‘What’s an assembly?’ asked Lisa, stretching.
‘It’s where we exchange information and receive orders for the day.’
‘We don’t need to attend it. We are not staying here. We are going home today,’ said Masha, slowly getting up and wincing as she placed weight on her bad leg.
‘That might be so. But for now you are here. And if you’re here, you must follow the rules.’
Lisa rubbed her face with snow, then passed the bowl to Masha. She had to admit, it did feel refreshing. She no longer felt drowsy, just dirty and extremely hungry. She thought with longing of the borscht her sister used to cook before the war, with beef and beetroot and a spoonful of sour cream, of her mother’s blinis hot off the stove, laden with strawberry jam and a tiny bit of honey. Of her brother Nikolai’s cheeky face as he would snatch the last blini out of Lisa’s hands and laugh. Suddenly she missed her family with a sharpness that took even her by surprise.
The Smirnovs lived on Tarasovskaya Street in Central Kiev, a stone’s throw away from the famous Taras Shevchenko University. There were two boys – Stanislav, the eldest, and Nikolai, the youngest. And two girls, Lisa and Natasha, only a year between them. Lisa was her father’s favourite, a fact she never tired of reminding her siblings. Papa had always showered her with gifts and praises. No matter what she did, he was proud of her. Mama was more equal in her affections but sometimes in the evening, when she brushed Lisa’s long red hair before bed, she would tell her how beautiful she was, how big she was getting, but that she would always be her baby girl, no matter what. Lisa didn’t have many memories of her early years but when she closed her eyes sometimes and thought back on that time, she remembered a feeling of warmth and unconditional love.
They were a close family, until war had torn them apart. Stanislav was fighting on the Eastern Front somewhere. Grandmother was gone, shot by a German officer on the second day of the occupation. Papa had been taken away by the Nazis one day, never to be seen again. And Lisa and her sister were no longer talking.
Masha asked, ‘Can we get something to eat first?’
‘You can ask Yulya but I don’t think she’ll give you anything.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because everything’s already been eaten. You’ll have to wait till lunchtime.’ Anna looked at her watch. ‘That’s five hours from now.’
Sighing, Lisa put on her coat, her boots and her hat that covered half her face, and then followed Anna outside, where it wasn’t dark but shimmering white. All she could see was a thick curtain of snow falling to the ground. Nothing else was visible, not the trees, not the meadow, nor even the sky. ‘I hate snow,’ muttered Lisa. ‘It makes everything so difficult.’
‘Yes, it makes it difficult for anyone to find us,’ said Anna. ‘It hides our footprints, hides all traces of us. It’s a good thing.’
‘I just want to feel warm again. I miss summer.’
‘True, in summer it’s warmer and there’s more food, but we are also easier to spot.’
Lisa shrugged, thinking to herself that she would take the risk if it meant there was no wet icy-cold slush inside her boots and under her scarf. With Masha leaning on her arm, she could barely walk through the snow. Every step was a struggle as she fell in knee-deep and then had to pull herself and Masha out and make another step and pull herself out again. After two minutes of this she was out of breath.
In silence they hobbled a hundred or so paces through the forest until they reached an open space where a few dozen people were gathered in anticipation. Mostly men, either past their prime or barely out of school, too old or too young to have been conscripted into the Red Army, and a few women here and there, wearing Red Army uniforms that were falling apart at the seams, faces dirty and cheeks hollow, with kerchiefs tied around their heads to protect them from the frost. They shuffled from foot to foot to keep warm, smoked, shook hands, spoke and laughed. These were the brave warriors instilling terror in the Nazis, destroying bridges and blowing up trucks, removing telephone cables and stopping trains.
While the partisans watched the girls with curiosity, Lisa surreptitiously glanced into every face in the hope of spotting Maxim. She couldn’t wait to see him again, so she could thank him for saving her from certain death in Germany. When she thought of him, her heart was warm with gratitude. Pointing at a hundred or so people gathered around the meadow, she asked, ‘Is this all of you?’
‘Almost. A few men left in the middle of the night to mine a bridge at Dermanka. They should be back soon.’
Was Maxim one of them? Lisa wanted to ask but didn’t want her new friend to think she was interested in him.
A small, stooped man stepped in front of them and raised his hand. They could barely see him behind the falling snow but instantly everyone fell silent. For a few seconds nothing was heard but the partisans’ heavy breathing. ‘That’s Azamat, my papa,’ whispered Anna proudly in Lisa’s ear.
Azamat spoke quietly but confidently. Everyone around seemed to hold their breaths to hear what he had to say. ‘First and foremost, I wanted to congratulate you on a job well done. A train to Germany was intercepted yesterday; three high-ranking Nazi officers and thirty soldiers are dead. Hundreds of our people were free to return home. It’s a great achievement but there are many lessons to be learnt and many ways in which we can improve.’
‘What’s there to improve? One hundred per cent losses for the enemy, and we haven’t lost a single man,’ cried out a burly man in a sheepskin coat. His voice resonated loud and clear through the woods.
‘That’s Danilo,’ whispered Anna. ‘You don’t want to get on his bad side. He kills the Nazis with his bare hands.’
Looking at Danilo, Lisa could easily believe it. The man was built like a bear and looked angry like one, his eyes bloodshot and mean.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile,’ said Anna.
Lisa could believe that too. Danilo looked like he had swallowed a handful of sour grapes.
The leader glanced at Danilo before replying. A shadow of something resembling annoyance passed over his face but a second later it was gone. ‘It is true, we haven’t lost any men and that’s commendable. But we wasted ammunition. We need to be more conscious of that. Once we run out, what are we going to do?’
‘I’ll fight with rocks if I have to,’ exclaimed a withered old man to Lisa’s right.
‘I know you will. You are all brave men. But it’s best if we don’t let it get to that. From now on, we act in small groups. Seven people maximum.’
‘Seven people! That’s insane,’ grumbled Danilo. ‘If we come across a big regiment, they will destroy us.’
‘That’s why we act from ambuscades. We make every shot count. We don’t fire unless we are assured of success.’
The woman who Lisa recognised as Yulya said, ‘I suppose it has its advantages. A small grou
p is easier to hide. A small group can retreat without being spotted.’ Danilo glared in her direction but she didn’t seem to notice.
‘Yulya and Danilo are married,’ whispered Anna. ‘They never agree on anything.’
‘Apart from that, well done, partisans! Our fight is not over until every single Nazi is out of Kiev and the Soviet Union. Now that the rail communication has been disrupted, our next mission is to regain the German-occupied villages.’
‘I like the sound of that. The villagers will feed us and give us clothes,’ cried a young boy who was so thin and dressed so poorly, he seemed in desperate need of those things.
‘Yes, the villagers will be very grateful. But it’s more than that. The news will travel all over Kiev and raise morale. People will see that the Nazis are not as invincible as they think. They will know partisans are leaving the woods and occupying the villages. And you know what they’ll think? If the Nazis can’t beat the partisans, how can they ever beat the Red Army?’
Danilo stepped forward. ‘The Nazis are no longer using main roads to move their troops and ammunition. They use smaller trails, which slows them down. Do you know why?’
‘The roads were snowed in?’ someone shouted from the back.
‘They are afraid of us. We inconvenience them, lower their efficiency. It’s only a matter of time before they are gone from our soil for good!’
As the partisans cheered and threw their hats in the air, Lisa felt a strange sense of displacement, like she was living someone else’s life. One minute she was in occupied Kiev, counting down the days of the occupation, waiting for the war to end and her life to resume. The next, she was on the train to Germany, her worst fears realised. And now she was here, among brave and selfless warriors who had put their country first, who risked their lives every day as if they meant nothing. But she wasn’t brave, nor was she selfless. What was she doing here?
*
In the early afternoon, the sun peered from behind the clouds and the little settlement sparkled like a diamond. But inside the dugout that served as a cafeteria, it was dim, damp and cold. Bent over a narrow table, straining their eyes to see in the near-darkness, while a candle burnt on a shelf above them, Anna, Lisa and Masha were mending uniforms. The old fabric fell apart under Lisa’s fingertips and she had to stitch it over and over again. Lunch had come and gone and still the girls were hungry. Lisa could barely concentrate due to the ache in her stomach. She couldn’t possibly be expected to work while feeling like this. And yet, the partisans didn’t complain. Nor did they remain seated on a bench inside a dugout but organised themselves into small groups and went out to fight the evil forces that had occupied their city.
There was still no sign of Maxim.
The material Lisa was holding smelt of sweat and blood. ‘Shouldn’t we wash these first?’ she asked, wrinkling her nose.
‘In this weather? They’ll never dry. And wash them with what? If you can find some soap, by all means, wash them,’ said Anna, the needle moving swiftly in her hand. She didn’t seem to mind the work. If her fingers were stiff from the cold and her head light from hunger, she didn’t show it.
‘How did you end up here, in the battalion?’ asked Masha, who was already on her third uniform.
‘I followed my papa,’ said Anna. ‘Like many people here who followed their loved ones. I didn’t want him to be all alone and I wanted to do my bit for the country, so I came here. Papa is an old warrior. He was a partisan during the Great War and the Civil War. He knows these woods like the back of his hand. He was never going to sit back and watch the Nazis take our city. He was the one who organised everything, rallied everyone together, set up food and ammunition stores.’ There was pride in her voice. And love.
‘What’s it been like?’ asked Lisa, wondering how long they were expected to do this. She’d never been good with her hands. Even though she had a younger brother, Lisa was the real baby of the family. Her mother and sister cooked food for her to eat. They sewed clothes for her to wear. Lisa never had to do anything for herself and it showed.
‘It feels good to know we are making a difference. We are not taking this lying down. We are resisting, making their life difficult. But we are hungry all the time. We can never get warm. And the Nazis are determined to wipe us out.’
‘How can they ever find you here, in the woods?’ asked Masha.
‘We don’t stay in the woods. We go out to find them. Besides, we are not as well hidden as you might think. A few months ago a local guide brought a Nazi regiment right to our camp.’ Anna shuddered at the memory. Her habitual smile was gone and she looked even younger, like a little girl, vulnerable and lost.
‘The locals did that? But why?’ asked Lisa, putting her sewing down.
‘Some people would sell their own grandmother if it meant they could have a better life. They go out of their way to suck up to the Nazis,’ said Anna, not looking up from the uniform she was mending, as if she didn’t want the girls to see the fear on her face. ‘The Ukrainian policemen are often worse than the Germans. At the start of the war, a Nazi officer came to our house with a Ukrainian interpreter. They were looking for radio receivers and weapons. When I saw the Ukrainian pig with his self-satisfied greasy face, I couldn’t help myself. I told him exactly what I thought of him. I called him a traitor, said he should be ashamed of himself turning his back on his own country like this.’
‘I wish I was as brave as you,’ said Masha, wide-eyed. ‘I wish I had the courage to say something like that to someone’s face.’
‘Brave and reckless,’ said Lisa. ‘What did the man do?’
‘He was furious. Slapped me hard across my face and would have hit me again if the German officer didn’t stop him. He shouted at him for hitting a woman. I couldn’t believe my ears. When the Ukrainian pig told him what I’d said to him, the officer laughed so hard, I thought his pants would split. And then he said, “But the young lady is right. You are a traitor. Why are you punishing her for telling the truth?”’
‘Did you say the Nazis came to your camp?’ asked Lisa, shivering. ‘What happened?’
‘They came in the night. I was sound asleep. Gunshots woke me. It was terrifying. Luckily, our camp was on top of a hill. Although we were surrounded, that gave us a strategic advantage. We managed to break through and escape. Lost all our food supplies though. Since then, I never go anywhere without my rifle. I even keep it under my bed when I sleep.’ Anna pointed under the table. When Lisa glanced underneath, she saw an outline of a long-barrelled rifle half-hidden under a pile of old blankets and uniforms.
‘Even if I had a rifle, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. Where did you learn how to shoot?’ asked Masha, watching Anna with admiration.
‘Maxim teaches everyone. Why don’t you ask him?’
Lisa felt her cheeks redden. Suddenly she was desperate to learn how to shoot. The war had broken her heart in so many ways. As she watched her friend Olga taken away with the other Jewish people in Kiev, never to be seen again, as she clung to her fiancé Alexei’s lifeless body, killed by the Nazis for nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, she had felt so helpless and small. Since then, all she wanted was to make a difference. And maybe now she could. The fact it would be Maxim teaching her how to shoot was an added bonus. ‘Where is Maxim from?’ she asked carefully. She was dying to learn more about the man who had saved her life but didn’t want to appear too eager. ‘Is his family in Kiev?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Anna. ‘He’s a very private person. Never talks about himself. But what I do know is that he’s one of the best snipers in all of Ukraine, possibly even the Soviet Union. The Nazis are terrified of him. And I can’t say I blame them, with the number of high-ranking officers they have lost because of him. He’s been learning how to shoot since he was a little boy. I think he was a national champion when he was at school. It’s a passion of his.’
‘A good passion to have in times of war,’ said Lisa, wishing she ha
d an interest like that, something to take her mind off the war and the heartbreak. As a little girl, she had enjoyed ballet. As a teenager, she had played chess with her older sister because she wanted to be closer to her. And she had enjoyed school tremendously – something not many of her friends realised. She loved learning new things. In September 1941, she was supposed to start her history degree at Taras Shevchenko University in Kiev. Her dream was to become a history professor like her beloved grandfather. She had grown up listening to stories of kings and heroes, of bloody battles and royal balls, of loyalty and valour, not made-up stories one read in novels but things that had really happened, thus making them even more precious. These stories had captured her imagination and all she wanted was to share them with others.
But Hitler had other ideas and in June 1941 her life had changed forever.
‘My passion is music,’ said Anna. ‘Quite pointless during the war but sometimes I play the guitar or accordion for the men and they like it. It cheers them up.’
‘My mama is a piano teacher. I can play a little bit too,’ said Lisa.
‘I thought you said you had no family left,’ said Masha.
‘I didn’t say that. I said I had nowhere to go. I don’t talk to my family.’ Once, before the war, Lisa and her sister Natasha had been inseparable. Whenever she liked a boy or had an argument with her parents or received a bad mark at school, Lisa would turn to her sister for support. A year younger, all Lisa ever wanted was to be more like Natasha. Her sister liked chess, so she learnt how to play, even though it gave her a headache. Natasha liked Tolstoy, so Lisa stayed up late, reading War and Peace, even though it bored her senseless. In her last year of school, at a piano recital, Lisa met a handsome boy named Alexei and they became sweethearts. It was Natasha who covered for Lisa every time she snuck out of the house to meet him. And it was Natasha who had convinced their parents Lisa wasn’t too young to marry after Alexei proposed.
Daughters of the Resistance Page 5
