Lisa still found it hard to believe that the round and sharp-tongued Yulya was married to monosyllabic Danilo, sharing a small dugout with him at the outskirts of the little settlement. Yulya had told her she’d followed her husband to the partisan battalion because she couldn’t bear to be apart from him. That, too, was hard to believe. Lisa had never seen the two of them exchange as much as a word or a look. Then again, other than his outburst at the assembly on her first day here, she had never seen Danilo exchange a word with anyone. He seemed to communicate in grunts and gestures.
Yulya added, ‘No more breaks in the morning or afternoon. You can have an hour for lunch. And no arguments. By helping these men fight the enemy, you are helping our country.’
When Yulya wasn’t looking, Lisa mimicked her, rolling her eyes. No breaks during the day – as if she wasn’t working hard enough. But she couldn’t be upset for long. Only one more hour to go!
For lunch Lisa had a small bowl of soup – warm water with half a potato floating in it. She sat with Masha, who was silent like Danilo, and stared into her bowl, hoping more soup would miraculously appear. Even after every morsel was gone, she was still hungry. How was she supposed to get through her day, to cook and clean and sew when all she could think about was food? How did the others do it? They sat in ambuscades in the freezing cold for hours, shot their rifles, mined bridges, cut telephone cables and never complained. Azamat – and Napoleon – were wrong when they said the army marched on its stomach, because this army had nothing in theirs. Exhausted, undernourished and ready to fall, on and on they marched regardless.
After they finished eating, Masha begged Lisa to come with her to the headquarters to talk to Azamat. Lisa happily agreed. She had half an hour before her shooting lesson and needed to get away from the monotony of the cafeteria and Yulya’s grim face.
They found Azamat pacing the little room inside the headquarters, his hands behind his back. When he saw them, he stopped and smiled.
‘I need to talk to you,’ said Masha, getting straight to the point in her usual manner. ‘We have too many men with frostbite. The hospital is full.’
‘Tell me about it. It’s the same in every battalion. I have no one to send out there to fight the enemy. It seems the weather is fighting their battles for them.’ He shook his head sadly.
‘All we have is warm water and bandages. I can’t save their limbs with those. I need animal fat. Goose, duck, anything really.’
‘I’ll talk to Danilo. He might be able to help.’
‘Thank you. But we need to do more. Prevention is important.’
‘How do we prevent frostbite? While these extreme temperatures last, there’s really not much we can do.’
Masha stood up straight, like a soldier at attention. ‘There are some things we can do. Shorten the amount of time men spend on sentry duty. An hour maximum, then swap. Tell them to line their boots with grass. Teach them to bind their feet with cloth.’
Lisa watched her friend with awe. How brave she was, standing up to Azamat, telling him how to run his partisan battalion. Even more astonishing, he didn’t get offended or tell her to mind her own business. All he did was nod and say quietly, ‘Those are excellent suggestions. I will talk to the men.’
As the girls were saying goodbye outside the cafeteria, Lisa said, ‘I’m impressed! You went in there like a general.’
‘What choice do I have? The men’s lives depend on me.’
After Masha went back to work, Lisa snuck into their dugout and sat on her bed. She took a few deep breaths to calm down, wishing she had a mirror to see what she looked like, wishing it was summer and she could dress up in a pretty dress for him. How she longed for some make-up to make herself more striking, some mascara to draw attention to her eyes, the colour of deep sea, some lipstick to make her lips fuller. All she could do was rub her face extra hard with snow, brush her teeth extra vigorously with baking soda and straighten her hair with the tips of her fingers before she adjusted her drab coat, her old hat and kerchief, and trudged through the snow towards the meeting point.
Maxim was already there, four rifles in his hands. Lisa wondered why they needed so many but quickly forgot about it because he was looking at her and saying, ‘You are nice and early. Ready to learn?’
Lisa wanted to say she’d been ready for days, that she’d been counting the hours. But all she did was nod eagerly in reply.
‘We still have five minutes. Let’s wait for the others.’
‘What others?’ she asked, her heart falling.
‘Here they are.’
When she looked up, she saw two young men walking towards them.
‘Thank you for being punctual. There’s nothing worse than waiting in this cold,’ said Maxim, smiling at Lisa, who couldn’t meet his gaze. So much for being alone in the woods with him. ‘Lisa, meet Alex and Sergei. They’ve been with us for a few months now.’
The men shook Lisa’s hand. She barely nodded.
‘Here are your rifles. I thought we’d start with the Soviet-issue Nagant. Nice and easy.’
As if in a trance, she followed the three men to the secluded spot where the lesson would take place. The rifle was heavy and made it difficult for her to walk through the snow. Bear ran in front of them, barking excitedly, scaring the birds away. Like dark clouds they fled from the nearby trees. Lisa fell behind a few paces, watching Alex and Sergei with loathing, as if they were solely responsible for the disappointment she was feeling.
Smiley and light-hearted, Alex said, ‘This will be great. I can’t wait to learn how to shoot.’
The heavy-set Sergei, who looked as gloomy as Lisa felt, replied, ‘What’s the point? If our army couldn’t stop the Nazis, what can a group of people hiding in the woods do? We have no food, no equipment. We are just cannon fodder for the Germans. In the end, they’ll kill us all.’
‘If that’s how you feel, what are you doing here?’ asked Maxim. Lisa could tell he didn’t approve of Sergei, even though he tried not to show it.
‘I have nowhere else to go. They killed my entire family.’
Alex said, ‘How can you say there’s no point? Before they kill us all, we have to make them pay for what they are doing to us. We have to resist. We can’t take this lying down.’
‘Will it bring my family back?’
Alex continued, ignoring Sergei. ‘My parents had a German officer staying with them last year. Whenever he had to travel somewhere, he would always ask whether there were partisans on the road. One day I said to him, here you are, going to the front, an old soldier, why are you afraid of the partisans? And you know what he said? He said, at the front, if you get wounded or taken prisoner, chances are you’ll live. But when facing partisans, in both instances you are dead. That’s why I joined. I wanted the Nazis to be afraid of me.’
‘That’s exactly what we want. We want them to be afraid. And you know why?’ said Maxim. When he spoke, Lisa paid attention. He had a presence about him, an assurance she had never seen before in any other man. As if he knew his own heart, knew exactly who he was and was proud of it.
‘Why?’ asked Alex. Both young men looked at Maxim with awe. Lisa saw him through their eyes. An experienced partisan, one of the best snipers in the Soviet Union, responsible for killing hundreds of German officers. Her heart swelled with pride, as if his achievements had something to do with her.
‘Because if they are afraid of us, they will continue sending units against us.’
‘And that’s a good thing?’ asked Lisa, shivering.
‘Of course. The more the better. A unit on a mission against us means one fewer unit for the Red Army to deal with. And that’s what we are here for. To help our army fight for our motherland.’
They came to a clearing surrounded by snow-capped birch trees. The sun was shining through the branches, giving them a magical halo, like angels sent to these woods to watch over them, and all at once Lisa felt like she was a million miles away, in a fairy-tale land somewher
e. If it wasn’t for the rifle dragging her down, if it wasn’t for the men talking about killing other human beings as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, she would have forgotten all about the war.
They formed a circle around Maxim. As he spoke, Lisa studied his face. How handsome he was, how his eyes lit up with passion. Feeling a little light-headed, she placed the butt of her rifle in the snow and leant on it.
‘As partisans, our mission is to make the Nazis’ lives unbearable, by whatever means possible. It’s our job to make them regret they ever came here. Don’t let them relax for a moment. Damage them physically and emotionally. Our goal is to appear suddenly and disappear before they know what’s hit them. Stealth and care, not brute force. We can’t afford to get caught alive.’
Lisa didn’t want to think about the implications of getting caught alive.
‘Soon you will learn that every operation is different,’ continued Maxim. ‘No two are alike. You can’t take longer than one second to judge the situation and make a decision. One second is everything to a partisan. Being careful doesn’t make you a coward, it makes you smart. And being smart means you will achieve much more for your country than if you get yourself caught. Do any of you play chess?’
Sergei raised his hand and said, ‘I was a national champion two years in a row.’
‘Very well. Then you will know that chess players think two steps ahead.’
‘More than two, you have to—’
‘That’s right,’ interrupted Maxim. ‘And that’s what we have to do here. In a chess competition, not thinking ahead will cost you a medal. Here, it will cost you your life. The stakes are higher. It’s better to be prepared, to take your time and think. The partisan is like a fisherman. We throw our lines out and wait. We don’t rush. Patience is key. As partisans, we have an important job to do. You know what they call us? The third front. Like Alex here said, the Nazis are afraid of us. Let’s show them they have every reason to be.’
‘Is it true that you have shot thousands of Nazi officers?’ asked Sergei, who no longer looked gloomy.
‘It’s not true.’
‘I heard there’s an award out on your head.’
‘I hope not,’ said Maxim.
‘What is it like to shoot someone? To take someone’s life?’ asked Alex. Lisa could swear he was dying to shoot somebody.
‘What do you think it’s like?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never done it.’
‘It’s different for everyone.’
‘What was it like for you?’ asked Lisa quietly.
‘It wasn’t easy. And doesn’t get easier. But we do what we have to, even when it’s hard, because we have no other choice.’ Maxim coughed as if to hide his embarrassment and said, ‘Let’s get to work, shall we? In the battalion, we have three types of rifle: Soviet, Polish and Japanese. We also have guns, machine guns and mines. Unlike food, we have plenty of ammunition. But we still have to be careful. We don’t want to waste a single bullet because once we run out, that’s it. You heard Azamat. We don’t shoot unless we are certain of our target. We take aim carefully and remain calm.’
Lisa wasn’t sure she could do that. Remaining calm had never been her strong suit, especially under pressure. As she learnt how to stand, how to hold her rifle correctly, how to reload and take aim, her gaze searched out Maxim. His eyes twinkled when he talked about shooting. He held his weapon gently, with care, like it was something he loved dearly.
After Maxim had talked them through each step, he set them up with targets – a branch or a mark on a tree’s bark. Lisa was surprised they would be shooting with ammunition so soon, and a little bit nervous, but she understood the partisans didn’t have time to waste.
‘Press, don’t pull the trigger. But not before you are focused on the target,’ Maxim said to Lisa, coming from behind and standing so close, her face would touch his tunic if she turned around. She tried hard to concentrate on what she was doing and failed because she could feel his breath in her hair. Her hands trembled and she missed her target time and time again. But she persevered and, every now and then, she hit it and Maxim cheered. Her heart swelled with pride at his praise and each time it spurred her on to try harder.
By the end of the lesson, her arms and shoulders were aching, but it was all worth it. Maxim told her she was his best pupil of the day.
Chapter 8
As Irina made her way to work, careful not to slip on the ice, all she could think of was her husband at the partisan battalion. It had been nine days since they had said goodbye. Nine days of not hearing, of not knowing if he was all right. If anything happened to him, would someone knock on their door to give them the bad news? And how long would it take? Would the family go through their day, have their meals, clean their plates, read their books, go to work, go to the village for food, and not even know their husband, son and father was no longer with them?
That was what Irina was afraid of as she navigated the treacherous ice on Kirilovskaya Street. That her world had shattered and she didn’t know.
On the corner of Priorskaya and Makovskaya, in broad daylight, a group of Nazi officers surrounded a Soviet family. Irina watched in horror as the butts of the German machine guns came down hard first on a man’s head and then a woman’s. Three little girls, ranging in ages from three to six, screamed in fear.
A small crowd gathered. The mother looked up to them from the ground, small rivulets of blood running down her face, her hands pressed together as if in prayer.
‘It’s the Litovins,’ said an old woman to Irina’s right. ‘They owned a bakery before the war.’
‘They were feeding the partisans. The poor family, they’re doomed,’ said another woman.
Irina shook with fear. Today it was a family who supplied food to the partisans. Tomorrow it could be Maxim himself.
The Nazis forced the parents to their feet and took them and the children away. Even after they had disappeared around the corner, Irina could hear the girls’ crying. Then gunshots sounded. When all was quiet again, she shuddered as if waking from a nightmare and continued on her way, her heart breaking.
‘One day,’ she whispered to herself. One day the tide would turn and the Red Army would be back. And then the Nazis would pay, for every life they had taken and for every square metre of the Russian land they had burnt.
When Irina looked up from the muddy snow, she noticed a tall smiling man walking towards her out of the corner of her eye. He looks like Maxim, she thought and glanced away. But then the man waved and started running in her direction. It was Maxim!
‘Irina,’ he cried, lifting her off the ground like she was a porcelain doll, fragile and precious.
‘Maxim!’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here. Oh, Maxim!’ And then she couldn’t say another word, so relieved was she to see him.
They stood quietly for a moment, lost in each other. Finally, he took her hand and led her to a small church around the corner. Irina was surprised she had never noticed it before. While the buildings on either side had been destroyed by fire, the blue-and-white church remained intact, as if God Himself was protecting it. It was damp inside and completely empty. The Bolsheviks had turned the church into a science museum, but she could still see the outline of the cross on the wall. It made her feel strangely comforted, as if someone was looking out for her.
‘I was just thinking of you,’ she said, touching his face. ‘And here you are.’
‘I had to see you. I had to make sure you’re all right. Azamat is picking up supplies from Kiev today. I begged him to take me on his truck.’
‘Please thank him for me,’ she said, her hand on his cheek.
His face felt rough, unshaven. His eyes were warm. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Nauseous all the time. Tired. But otherwise well.’ She couldn’t stop smiling. Maxim was here. It was a miracle. ‘Let me run to work quickly. I’ll tell them I’m sick. We can spend the day together. We’ll go and see Sonya. She
keeps asking for her daddy.’ She trembled with excitement. When was the last time they had spent a day together? She couldn’t remember.
‘I wish I could, but I have to go soon.’ He laid his coat down and they sat on the floor, her head on his shoulder.
‘How long do you have?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Ten minutes. I can’t make Azamat wait or he might not take me with him next time.’
‘Oh no.’ A moment ago, she would have given anything just to lay her eyes on him. Ten minutes together was an unexpected gift. But at the thought of saying goodbye so soon, her heart ached.
Maxim looked inside his rucksack. ‘I brought some eggs. A bag of oats. Last time, you hardly had any left. Also a loaf of white bread and a sausage.’
‘I can’t remember the last time I had sausage. Where did you get it? Let me guess. The Germans?’ When he nodded, she said, ‘What a generous nation.’ She unwrapped the sausage, bringing it to her face and smelling it. Feeling slightly queasy, she wrapped it back up. ‘I’ll take it home for Sonya.’
‘Have some bread. And here is some garlic. When did you last have garlic?’
‘Thank you. I’ve been craving garlic.’ Gratefully she took a chunk of bread. ‘You can’t imagine how hungry we’ve been. All I think about is food. And you.’
‘It must be the pregnancy.’
She nodded, thinking, He doesn’t realise how little food we’ve been getting. ‘What about you? Do you have enough food?’ He looked thinner than the last time she had seen him, his face gaunt, more angular. There was dark stubble on his cheeks.
‘Sometimes. Not always.’ Seeing her worried eyes on him, he added, ‘We are doing all right. There are a hundred people in our battalion. That’s a lot of mouths to feed.’
Daughters of the Resistance Page 11
