The End of Sorrow: A Novel of the Siege of Leningrad in WWII

by JV Love

  "They're not human," Dima scoffed. "They're Imperialists. And that's all you need to understand."

  Felix set the booklet down and winked at Katya. "They're not only Imperialists," he said, a sly smile on his lips, "they're efficient Imperialists - the worst kind."

  Katya laughed, but Dima didn't. Since the war began, their friendship had started to change. Felix noticed how serious Dima had become and how he rarely laughed at jokes anymore. He pushed Dima toward the kitchen, and he and Katya followed. His father was busy slicing a loaf of dark bread. "Sit, sit," he begged them. "It'll be ready in a minute."

  The room smelled of fresh dill. Dima took a seat at the end of the table while Felix and Katya retrieved soup bowls and spoons from the cupboard.

  "So Katya," Dima said, "Felix tells me you have a new roommate."

  "Oh you mean Igor? Yes, he's quite a handful - always getting into things, curious as a cat. But my neighbor, Petya, has just been wonderful with him, keeping him occupied so he doesn't drive me crazy."

  "Igor is your cousin? Is that right?" Dima asked.

  "Yes," she said, setting four white soup bowls on the table. "I'd never met him before, though. He's from the country, and my father and his mother never talked. Igor told me the Germans burned their house and bombed the neighboring village, so he and his parents were refugees and just wandered for a long time. His parents ended up dying on the journey, and a Soviet soldier brought Igor all the way here to Leningrad and found us."

  Felix set a spoon next to each person, then sat down himself. The windows next to the small table were open, and a slight breeze carried in the sound of children playing in the courtyard below.

  "How old is Igor?" Dima asked.

  "Twelve."

  "Then he should be helping out on the front or at least doing something here in the city."

  "Oh believe me, he wants to," Katya said. "The problem is he has the maturity of a ten-year-old. Whenever he tries to help, he usually makes things worse."

  Felix's father began filling each person's bowl with a bright pomegranate-red colored soup. Katya used a match to light a burner on the stove, then set a pot of water on it.

  "Dima, you've no doubt heard about the retreat from Tallinn," Felix's father said. "Practically the entire fleet's been sunk. It's such a crime the way the whole affair was handled."

  "What do you mean it's a crime?" Dima asked.

  "It's a crime there was never a plan to evacuate. So many lives and so many ships could have been saved. My friend - one of the few to survive - told me all about it. They were trying to navigate the harbor with its thousands of Nazi mines while being bombed by Nazi guns from the shore and swarms of Nazi planes in the air."

  "The real crime is those Estonians taking up arms with the Germans," Dima said, clenching his fist. "We must all get behind the Party and be united with a single focus. If we're divided, the Germans will beat us. We never should have retreated from Tallinn."

  "But, Dima," Felix's father said, "the rules of war dictate that sometimes you attack and sometimes you retreat. To never retreat when you've been beaten is suicide. Surely you understand that?"

  "Retreat is something I hope never to understand," Dima said. "Tallinn would have kept the Germans busy for a long time. Now all those Nazi troops will be joining the battle for Leningrad."

  "Do we have sour cream?" Felix asked his father.

  "No, I'm afraid not. Your mother hasn't been able to find any. I have some dill though," he said and retrieved a small bowl from the counter.

  "Dima, do you remember Katya's neighbor, Petya?" Felix asked. "Katya said he told her he doesn't think it's necessary to stock up on food because the city will have to surrender soon."

  Katya grinned and poked Felix with her elbow. Felix glanced at her and winked, waiting for Dima's reaction.

  "He's a traitor," Dima said. "If the Party weren't so busy preparing for the defense of the city, then people like him would be dealt with. Anyone who thinks of surrender should be shot."

  Felix's father was oblivious to his son's mischief until he noticed Katya having difficulty suppressing a giggle. "If we had a whole army of people like you, Dima, we'd never lose a battle," he said, joining in.

  "Well, I don't know about every battle," Dima said.

  Katya burst out laughing, and Dima looked at her quizzically.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I just remembered a joke someone told me."

  Felix turned toward her, a glint in his eye. "Well, we could all use a little humor. Why don't you tell us the joke?"

  She raised her bottom lip, directing a fake scowl at Felix. "No, I'm terrible at telling jokes," she said. "Let's eat. I'm sure Dima's starving."

  "Yes, let's eat," Felix's father said.

  Each of them sprinkled some of the fresh dill on their soup, took a thick slice of black bread and began eating.

  "Delicious," Dima said. "It sure beats what they give us on the front."

  A small bee flew in the window and buzzed around the table until Felix's father chased it back outside again. Felix, normally a fast eater himself, was surprised at how much quicker Dima was eating than he. Dima's bowl was nearly half finished in a matter of seconds.

  "Katya, how is the work at the hospital going?" Felix's father asked.

  "Oh, I don't want to talk about it," she said, dropping her shoulders. "These poor old men and these young boys keep pouring in. It's awful, just awful."

  "I agree. Let's not talk about that," Dima said. "We mustn't concentrate on the negative: the retreats, the traitors, the wounded, the food situation. We need to focus on the positive - on the news and stories that inspire us, not deflate us. We should be talking about the Colonel Podlutskys of the war."

  "Podlutsky," Katya repeated. "I know him. He's in our hospital. All the men speak so highly of him. What did he do?"

  "He was in the artillery unit of the 70th Division," Dima said. "They fought the Germans with everything they had but were badly outnumbered and ultimately encircled. With the division in shambles, Podlutsky led his detachment out of encirclement 125 miles behind enemy lines."

  "Yes, I heard about that," Felix said. "But don't you think the Soviet people deserve to know the truth about how the war is going? The newspapers often hide disappointing news, and it only feeds the rumormongers."

  "The truth is what history writes," Dima said. "If the Party is wrong, then it will be so judged. But the Party is not wrong. You'll see. Speaking of which, how is your father, Katya?"

  "Overworked as usual. I think he suffered a minor heart attack two weeks ago, but he won't admit it. He was having difficulty breathing and kept holding his hand to his chest complaining of pain and tightness. I couldn't get him to go see a doctor though. He said, 'The doctors are busy with the wounded. I won't have them wasting their time on an old man with indigestion.' I fear he'll do himself in before the Germans ever do."

  Felix's father used a piece of bread to soak up the remaining soup in his bowl. "I tell you what I'd like to ask him," he said while eating the bread. "I'd like to know about these rumors of people being evacuated - particularly children - right into the path of the Nazis."

  "I'm afraid you'll have to wait to ask him that," Katya said. "He's in Moscow now."

  "Moscow? When did this happen?"

  "He left on the train yesterday morning."

  "So the city's not surrounded yet? That's one less rumor to believe," Felix's father said.

  "Father, I told you the Northern Railroad was open and that trains were still going to Moscow. You trust Katya but not me?"

  "Don't be cross, Felix. I'm a fool for a beautiful woman." He held his hands over his heart and looked intently at Katya across the table. "If Katya told me the sky was green, I'd believe her."

  "Why can't you listen to me like your father does?" Katya said to Felix, elbowing him in jest once more. "Actually, Igor and I will be joining my father in Moscow tomorrow."

  "So you'll all live in Moscow?" Felix's father a
sked.

  "No, father's supposed to return September 1st. Igor and I will stay in Moscow until this madness is over with."

  Felix sensed both his father and Dima looking at him, waiting for an answer to a question that hadn't been asked.

  "Yes, my father's set it all up," Katya continued. "And Felix quite agrees with him."

  "I think it's for the best at this time," Felix said. He was wary of Dima's reaction and didn't have to wait long.

  "I don't think anybody who can help should leave," Dima announced. "Now, more than ever, it's important for us to stick together. United, we can win, but if able-bodied people evacuate the city, we're digging our own graves."

  "Don't try using your twisted logic with this, Dima," Felix said, no longer amused by his friend's intransigence and arrogance. "It's the Germans who are digging our graves, and you know it. It's not right to blame the people of Leningrad for needing some safety - for wanting to protect their loved ones."

  "It's precisely that kind of thinking that will doom us," Dima responded. "That's the most dangerous type of thinking there is, because it hides behind those antiquated notions of the individual having more importance than the collective whole. That's sentimentality masquerading as logic."

  Felix felt a flash of anger but held it in. Most of the arguments he had with Dima usually ended like this: Dima belittling individual needs and desires, Felix feeling uneasy with a rebuttal.

  Dima continued eating as though there had been no emotion in the conversation. "Felix, don't be angry," he said. "I don't hold your misguided thinking against you. You just need more time for the Party's teachings to sink in. That's why I'm so patient with you, and you should be patient with yourself as well. It takes time and courage to change these beliefs that have been ingrained in us for so long."

  Felix clenched his fists and was just about to tell Dima what a conceited, presumptuous ass he was when Katya put her hand over his left fist and squeezed. Felix saw her smiling so calmly his anger immediately softened. He could tell by the look on her face she understood that it was pointless to argue with Dima. She had squeezed his hand to remind him of that as well. Felix took a long, slow breath and knew that he didn't have to react to Dima's instigation. "Thanks, Dima," he said. "And I'll do my best to be patient with you as well."

  Dima looked puzzled for a moment but then continued eating.

  After lunch, Dima, Felix, and Katya went for a walk, while Felix's father stayed behind awaiting his wife's return. It was another warm, sunny day and the air was thick with the scent of the Neva river and turning leaves. Fall was fast approaching.

  After a few minutes, they came to the Kazansky Cathedral. The cathedral's dome was set against a tepid blue sky, and they walked around the cathedral under the shade of a row of linden trees whose leaves had turned yellow. Katya picked one of the leaves and admired it up close, then stuck it in Felix's hair. He was busy telling a joke to Dima and so let her do it.

  They turned down a small street that was blocked off to traffic. Coming toward them from the other end was a man who staggered from one side of the street to the other, barely able to keep his balance. They watched him stumble and fall to the ground. When he got back up, he began yelling and cursing and the people who passed by him veered toward the far side of the street. His speech was slurred and some of his words were incomprehensible, but most of his blasphemous rant was quite clear.

  "The Germans are coming!" he shouted. "They're going to take over. And the Soviets can't stop them. Nobody can! They'll slaughter all the commissars . . . every last one of them. Do you hear me?!"

  As they got closer, they saw the man was wearing a badly tattered Red Army uniform. Felix glanced at Dima and saw his face contorted in fury, his arm reaching for his pistol.

  "Down with the Soviets! Down with the Commissars! Down with Socialism!" he continued shouting to anyone within earshot.

  Felix hurried ahead of Dima and Katya, going as fast as his hurt leg would allow him. "Comrade," he said, trying to get the man's attention by standing right in front of him, "you need to be quiet now - for you own good."

  "I ain't your comrade," the man shouted. His forehead had a scrape on it and blood trickled down his left cheek. "I ain't nobody's comrade. I'm autonomous. Do you understand?" The man saw Dima approaching - hand on pistol - and shouted loudly in his direction, "I'm autonomous I said!!"

  "Look at me," Felix said, wrapping his fists around the man's shirt and pulling him close. Felix wasn't afraid of the man hurting him. He was exceptionally good at up-close fighting, having studied the Russian martial art, Sambo, for three years and being the best in his class.

  The man had trouble focusing. He looked everywhere except at Felix - at Dima, at Katya, at the people starting to gather around. "Look me in the eyes," Felix commanded. The man reeked of alcohol, and Felix could tell by his breath that he was drunk on cologne. "You need to stop talking now," Felix said. "You've had too much to drink and you're going to get in big trouble if you keep talking. Do you understand me?"

  "I ain't afraid of nobody!" the man shouted. "Kill the commissars!"

  "Listen!" Felix shouted in his face. The man finally looked Felix in the eyes, though his head kept swaying from side to side. "Do you see that man coming toward us?" Felix asked. "The one with the army fatigues and hand on his pistol?"

  The man looked at Dima again. "Yeah, I see him," he slurred. "I ain't afraid of him."

  Felix gripped the man's shirt even tighter. "Well, you should be afraid of him," he said. "He's going to kill you if you don't shut up."

  The man suddenly seemed to sober up. He fixed his eyes on Dima, who had now arrived and was standing five yards in front of him. A crowd of six or seven people had gathered at a distance to watch. The man used his forearm to wipe some of the blood from his cheek and forehead.

  Dima withdrew his pistol from its holster. "It's alright Dima," Felix said. "He didn't know what he was saying. He's done now."

  "You bastard," the man growled, still looking at Dima.

  "Stop," Felix whispered and placed his hand over the man's mouth. "Stop talking."

  The man pulled Felix's arm away. "You're just like the bastard who shot Vitya in the back!" he shouted at Dima. "Let me go!" he said to Felix, struggling to free himself from his grasp. "I'll say whatever I damn well want to say! I ain't afraid of nobody!" He turned toward the crowd of people. "The Germans are coming! They're going to slaughter every commissar and communist they find. Down with the Soviets!"

  Dima pointed his pistol at the man, but Felix still had him by the collar. "Felix, move away!" he ordered.

  "Dima, he's drunk," Felix said.

  "I don't care," Dima said. "Move away."

  "Don't do this, Dima," Katya said. "Please."

  "He ain't gonna shoot me," the man said. "Down with the Soviets!" His shirt ripped and he broke free from Felix's grasp. He made one step in Dima's direction and a shot rang out. The bullet struck him in the chest and he collapsed to the pavement.

  Katya let out a high-pitched scream. "Oh God!" she said. "You didn't have to do that, Dima. You didn't have to do that!" She rushed over to the man, inspecting the wound and checking his breathing. Two policemen ran out of a nearby alley and quickly approached.

  "Leave him be," Dima said to Felix and Katya. "Let the traitor die."

  "I need something to stop the bleeding," Katya said to Felix.

  Felix took his shirt off and handed it to her. She wadded the shirt into a ball, pulled Felix down next to her, then told him to put pressure on the wound. "If we can get him to a hospital quickly, he has a chance," she said.

  The policemen arrived. While one questioned Dima, the other talked to the people in the crowd. After only a few seconds, they approached Felix and Katya and told them to move away from the man.

  "He's dying," Felix said. "I need to keep pressure on the wound. Is there a stretcher nearby?"

  "I said move away," the taller policeman repeated.

  "I'
m a nurse," Katya said. "We need to get him to a hospital right away."

  The other policeman grabbed Katya by the arm and lifted her up. "Let him be," he said.

  "No, leave me alone!" She tried to break free, but he just gripped her arm tighter.

  The taller policeman moved closer to Felix. "If you don't want to get arrested," he said, "I suggest you move away now."

  "I told you," Felix said angrily. "He's dying. Can't you see that?!"

  The policeman grabbed Felix by the arm and forcibly pulled him to his feet. Felix quickly broke his grasp and then gave him a blow to the stomach that sent him reeling backwards. The other policeman let go of Katya and withdrew a small black club from his belt. Felix prepared to fight him, but Dima quickly jumped in front and wrapped his arms around Felix in a tight bear hug. Felix continued to struggle but he didn't want to hurt his friend, and eventually Dima managed to pull him away to a safe distance.

  Katya came over and started to cry. Felix took her in his arms and held her as he brushed away something he felt in his hair. The linden leaf floated to the pavement.

  The dying man had long since taken his last breath by the time Dima persuaded the two policemen not to arrest Felix. During this time, Felix and Katya had done their best to convince a shaken little girl who'd witnessed the scene that the dead man was a German spy disguised as a Soviet soldier. The girl's father was in the army and she couldn't comprehend how a Soviet soldier could kill another Soviet soldier when the Germans were the enemy.

  When they were finally allowed to leave, the three of them walked back to Nevsky Prospekt. There was a knot of tension between Felix and Dima, but neither of them wanted to discuss it. The stately Nevsky was filled with a strange mix of citizens and soldiers. They passed a young mother and her three children sitting on the curb enjoying Eskimo pies, then a company of soldiers in tight formation, then two young boys carrying gas masks. Felix found it hard to believe there was a war going on. Somehow it didn't all seem real yet. Young women still wore their summer dresses and cast curious sidelong glances at admiring young men. And despite all the talk of a food shortage, you could still buy Eskimo pies.