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

by JV Love

  She caught herself reaching into her coat pocket for the bread Petya had given her earlier, and stopped herself. "Wait until you reach the lake," she said silently, "then we'll have a little bite of bread and a nice rest."

  She noticed she had started referring to herself as 'we' and wondered what it meant.

  The rope to the sled fell from her hand. It wasn't only that she had so little strength, it seemed that the signal from her brain to various parts of her body was either being ignored by the intended recipients or else getting lost along the way. Her joints hurt, even more than usual, and she found herself stumbling over her own feet and forgetting where she was and why she was out here.

  This difficulty with thinking was nothing new. For the last month or so, she found her concentration lasted no more than a few seconds. It was similar to being really drunk - making a decision to do something and getting ready to do it, then forgetting what it was you wanted to do.

  She decided to tie the rope around her waist. As she was preparing to do this, a truck barreled down the road in her direction. The road was narrow here and there wasn't enough room for both her and two lanes of trucks.

  She moved to the side of the road and pulled her sled over so the truck wouldn't run over it. But as she did so, she lost her hold on the sled and it went racing down the four-foot slope on the side of the road. It came to a rest about thirty feet away.

  She stared at the sled and sank down onto the snow. She knew she couldn't get the sled back. The snow was very deep, and though the top of the snow was hard, it wouldn't support her weight and she'd sink down to her waist.

  The consequences of what had just happened were very clear to her. She had packed clothing and documents and half a loaf of bread on the sled, and they were all gone now. She had no energy to get upset about it though. She didn't view it as something that had gone terribly wrong. It had happened, and that was it.

  She still had half of her lipstick that she could eat, and also the bread Petya had given her. She decided to eat some of the bread now and save the lipstick for later. When she finished, she willed herself up to her feet and started walking again, vowing not to stop until she reached either the lake or a shelter.

  Dark clouds had moved in and blotted out the moon and stars. The wind had begun to gust from time to time and snowflakes the size of grains of sand swirled about. A blizzard was coming, Katya knew. The trucks had started to thin out and after a while stopped altogether.

  She walked for thirty minutes that seemed more like three hundred, and then her legs stopped moving. She hadn't told them to. She felt dizzy, like she was floating on a magic carpet caught in a wind storm. Then her legs gave out from under her and she found herself lying in the thick, fluffy snow alongside the road. It was so very comfortable. She had no desire to get back up.

  She closed her eyes and thought of her companion who lay in a similar position a few miles back. The words the woman had said to Katya still rang in her ears. Even on her deathbed, the woman had stubbornly clung to the belief that she was right, that the truck drivers should have given them a ride. Katya thought how everyone seemed to feel it necessary to prove their rightness, to prove they possessed the one-and-only truth. She didn't believe in any of that though. She didn't believe in aggression as the answer; as self-righteous indignation as a necessity; in shame, anger, or hate as things effective or beneficial.

  Her grandmother had taught her otherwise, but nobody else saw it that way. To them, animosity and rage were healthy - a natural and acceptable part of life. Where were the Peacemakers, Katya wanted to know. Where were the Righteous? The Merciful?

  She was alone. Alone in so many ways. She felt like the only one in the world who still believed peace and understanding were the answer. The only one who thought that nobody deserved anything; the only one who thought that nothing was good or bad, right or wrong.

  She wasn't mad about it, though, just sad. Sad that the world could be such a better place if only more people could see the beauty of Jesus' nonviolent teachings.

  Katya noticed that her breathing was no longer automatic. If she didn't consciously tell her body to take a breath, it wouldn't. She took her mitten off and stuck her right hand inside her coat. When her fingers got to be too thin to hold the ring Felix had given her, she put it on a string and wore it around her neck. She held fast to the ring now and thought back to a dance where she realized for the first time she was in love with Felix. It was fascinating to her because no words were spoken. She didn't suddenly blurt out, "I love you," as if the sentiment was a complete surprise even to her. And neither did he prompt her feelings in any way by saying anything.

  It happened when the band started to play a waltz. Felix came over to her, leaving his group of friends behind, and held out his hand for her to dance with him. She put her hand in his and they walked to the dance floor. When they came to a stop, he placed his left hand on her hip and held her right hand up to shoulder height, then looked her in the eyes, as if to say, "Ready?"

  He had a confidence about him that she found mesmerizing, but her legs felt like rubber. He moved his left leg forward, but she didn't move backwards and he crushed her toes with his shoe. The pain was intense but she found herself laughing despite it. Felix apologized profusely. Then she admitted she didn't know how to waltz. "Close your eyes," he'd told her. "I'm going to lead and you only have to follow. Just relax and don't try to guess what you need to do. Just react. When you feel me moving toward you, move away. Keep your arms firm. Don't let my chest come any nearer to yours than it is now."

  And then they began, ever so slowly to waltz. One-two-three. One-two-three. Katya kept her eyes closed the whole time and let herself be carried away by the music and Felix's sure grasp. They glided across the floor, spinning, swaying, Felix counting softly to her, one-two-three, one-two-three.

  There was only that moment. Nothing else existed. Just her and Felix and the music moving as one. It was during that time that her heart seemed to grow as big as the entire dance hall and she knew beyond the inadequacy of words that she was madly in love with this man and that her life would never be the same.

  Her right hand was starting to get numb from the cold but she refused to let go of the ring. She put her left hand over her right and closed her eyes even tighter, trying to return to that night when her heart was as big as the dance hall. Tears of sorrow welled in her eyes and the icy wind froze them to her eyelashes.

  * * *

  It had already been snowing for over an hour by the time Felix made it back to the place where he thought he'd seen Katya with the sled. His breath was short from the intense cold. The hairs on the inside of his nose felt like little frozen needles poking him on each inhalation. The wind gusted and belted him in the face, causing his cheeks and eyebrows to go numb. If he had ever been this cold before, he couldn't recall it.

  There had been a long line of trucks coming from the lake, their headlights providing a constant source of light to see by. The trucks had started to thin out recently, and Felix had to use his flashlight quite often. There were very few trucks going the same direction he was, but he wouldn't ask them for a ride anyway. He needed to check the bodies lying along the side of the road - and there was at least one every hundred feet or so.

  Only twenty minutes past where he thought he'd seen Katya, Felix thought he saw the fur coat with the familiar stripes. It was half buried under the sand-like snow, on a body that did not move.

  "Katya!" he yelled and ran to her. Hurriedly brushing some of the snow off, he grabbed her by the arm and shook. There was no response. Her body was stiff and cold. He pulled the scarf away that covered her face and saw to his horror and relief that it wasn't Katya. It was an old woman.

  Emotions swam frantically in every direction within him. Fear. If someone else had Katya's coat, did that mean Katya was dead? Regret. Why couldn't he have stood firm and made her leave on that train back in August? Guilt. Why had he taken so long to come back for her? Hopeles
sness. If she wasn't wearing that unique fur coat, how could he possibly find her?

  He sat back on the snow, unsure what to do next. He could head back toward Leningrad to find some place to sleep for the night, or continue on in the hope that Katya might still be out there. This woman didn't have a sled after all, and he distinctly remembered seeing the person with the fur coat pulling a sled with some bundles strapped to it.

  Something inside was telling him to keep going, to continue on toward Lake Ladoga (still many miles away), but Felix couldn't decide. A truck stopped near him and the driver hopped out to urinate on the side of the road. Felix asked him if he'd seen any people walking toward the lake.

  "Sure, I see 'em all the time," he answered. "Poor souls. Hardly any of 'em ever make it."

  "Tonight though," Felix said. "Did you see any tonight?"

  "Tonight . . . hmm," he said. "I'm not sure. The days all kind of blend together."

  Felix took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was so cold and hungry and tired.

  "You need a ride into the city?" the driver asked as he got back into his truck.

  The wind was blowing harder, the snow falling heavier, and Felix found himself opening his mouth to say yes. But before he said it, he did his best to set his confusion aside for a second and just listen. Then there was no doubt. The message coming from within was loud and clear: Don't give up. Not now. Not ever.

  He waved the driver off and marched on, checking every body alongside the road. He worried that Katya might have collapsed and that he would pass her by, so he was careful not to skip over any of them. He'd stop, brush off some of the snow, then study the person's face. He had to look closely because the corpses all looked the same to him. He could tell the old from the young, but that was about it. There wasn't enough light to tell any more.

  After he'd walked nearly two miles from the spot where he'd thought he'd seen Katya, exhaustion - both physical and mental - started to take its toll on him. The weather was abysmal. The wind was blowing stronger than ever and the snow was traveling horizontally, blinding you if you tried to look into it. He'd checked dozens of bodies. They were all dead and frozen.

  He passed by another corpse on the side of the road, but there was no sled nearby and he didn't want to stop to check the body. He was tired of disturbing the dead and wanted to let them rest in peace.

  He sat down to rest on a snowbank a few yards past the corpse. His hands were cold and numb, and only with great difficulty was he able to get out the flask Misha had given him and open it. The liquor burned his throat, as usual, but his body welcomed the sensation - probably because the rest of it was frozen. His stomach growled, but there was nothing to be done about that. He'd eaten the last of his food several hours ago.

  He prepared himself to go check the corpse. Taking the scarf off and studying the face was the hardest part, especially if they still had their eyes open. As he walked up to the body, he wondered if they might have some bread or something that they'd packed for the journey. They might have died before they had a chance to eat it, he thought.

  There was a time when Felix would have found the idea of taking things from the dead revolting, but now he'd seen so much death that he had little reaction to it. Corpses were as familiar to him as flies in the summer. The dead had no need of their material possessions - especially food.

  The body only had an inch of snow over top of it, so Felix guessed they hadn't died too long ago. He decided it would be easier to search for food before removing the person's thick scarf and seeing their face. As he brushed some of the snow off, he saw the person had both of their hands tucked inside their coat, just below their chin. The left hand covered the right, as if they were holding something precious. Felix pulled each arm out so he could see what it was they were holding. He was surprised at how easily the arms moved. The person couldn't have been dead long at all. Rigor mortis hadn't set in.

  He used his flashlight to get a better look and saw the person was holding a ring hanging from a necklace. The ring had a small ruby in the middle and a petite diamond on each side. Felix recognized it of course. It was the ring he'd given Katya on that day long ago before he left for the front.

  His jaw dropped. He hadn't expected this.

  Unable to take in all the significance of the development, he simply stared at the ring. Then he placed his hand on the scarf that covered the person's face and braced himself. He removed it slowly, studying the face inch by inch. It was a second or two after he fully removed the scarf before he knew for sure. She was thin and pale and had those awful red and purple marks that indicated frost bite. Despite her taut skin and humongous eyes, Felix recognized her.

  "Oh, Katya. My precious," he whispered as tears filled his eyes. He laid his head on her chest and held her. He was too late. She was gone. Grief filled his entire being like the thick, acrid smoke at the warehouse had, and he found it hard to breathe.

  "My love," he cried softly, barely able to get the words out. He pressed his lips to her cheek. Her skin was cold, but he'd expected it to be colder. Cautiously, he removed the mitten from his right hand and felt for a pulse in her neck. He thought he felt something, but couldn't be sure. He stuck his fingers in his mouth to warm them up, then held his breath and tried again. And there it was - the faintest pulse he'd ever felt. She was alive!

  Elation surged through his body like an electric current. My God! She's alive!

  He took his flask out and carefully poured a little of the liquor in her mouth. Then he took out both of the blankets he carried in his pack and wrapped them tightly around her. He desperately hoped to see a truck and get a ride because it was critical that she warm up. But the trucks, which had been gradually thinning out, had now completely disappeared. Perhaps it was because of the weather, or an accident, or some other reason. Felix didn't know.

  He remembered when he came into the city they passed by a collection of ice huts and that he'd seen two nurses pulling a wounded soldier into one of the them. He decided to take her there, hoping that hut served as a medical station. It was probably another two miles further, he guessed. He picked Katya up and was horrified at how light she was. She weighed no more than a child. He could tell there was no seductive curve from her waist to her hips anymore - her body had no curves at all now.

  The road was slippery because the falling snow didn't pack, and underneath it were patches of ice. But it wasn't just the slippery conditions that made the trip difficult, Felix's legs were worn out. It was all he could do to keep from stumbling and falling to the ground.

  He carried her in front of him with both arms, trying to keep her face close to his. After ten minutes, he stopped and poured a little more of the alcohol down her throat. She responded by coughing, and it was the most wonderful sound he'd ever heard.

  "Katya," he called out over the roaring of the wind.

  She moaned and moved her head slightly.

  "Katya, open your eyes."

  Her eyelids remained closed, but she did mumble something.

  "What?" Felix said loudly in her ear. "I couldn't hear you." He pulled the scarf covering her face down to her chin.

  "You're such a wonderful dancer," she said weakly.

  Felix still wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. A dancer?

  "Katya, it's me. Felix."

  "I know," she said, then finally opened her eyes. "Who else would it be?"

  Felix wasn't sure she saw anything. Her eyes appeared unfocused and seemed to be looking past him. She started to speak again and he turned his ear toward her.

  "Where did you learn to waltz like that?" she asked.

  Felix didn't understand and thought she was delusional.

  She squinted her eyes and looked him in the face. Then she wrinkled her forehead, looking confused. "You have a white beard," she said.

  Felix was sure she had lost her senses, then realized that his beard probably was colored white from the cold and the snow.

  "You look like Father Frost,"
she said.

  A joke. She told a joke! Felix laughed loudly. It was the funniest, most beautiful wisecrack he'd ever heard her say. She was going to be all right. He just knew it. "Yes, that's right," he said, still laughing. "I'm Father Frost. Ho-ho-ho. And I brought a present for you, little girl."

  Katya managed a narrow smile that lasted only the briefest of seconds. "Oh Felix, I knew I'd find you," she said. "I just knew it."

  The wind blew snow as fine as table salt directly into Felix's face and he bent his head forward as he carried her. "Yes, you found me," he said. "Everything's going to be fine now. We're together again."

  "I'm really tired," she said. "I'm going to sleep for a little while."

  "No," Felix said emphatically. He knew what falling asleep meant for someone in her condition. It wasn't slumber she would be surrendering to, it was death. "You need to stay awake, Katya," he said. "Okay?" She had already closed her eyes and didn't open them.

  "Katya," he shouted in her ear, "promise me you won't fall asleep."

  She said something in response but it was so faint that Felix couldn't hear it. "I didn't hear you," he said and leaned his right ear as close as he could to her mouth. "Say it again."

  "Aaa promiss," she said in a whisper.

  "You don't have to speak," Felix said. "Just listen to me. Just stay awake and listen to me."

  He knew he had to talk about something that would keep her attention if he was to have any hope of keeping her awake. "Do you remember that day we skipped school and went to the museums instead?" he began. "It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. We'd arrived at school at the same time and it was the first nice day of spring. Neither of us wanted to go to class. Just as we were about to walk through the front door, you said, 'Let's get out of here.' I thought you were joking, but you were serious, so I asked, 'Where?' And you said, 'Anywhere. Anywhere at all so long as we can be together today.' So we did it. And we had such a wonderful day. I still remember eating chocolate ice cream in the park, and that one painting we saw. It was . . ."