Look to the Wolves

by Look to the Wolves

  ‘Just one moment.’ He told Bob, ‘That’s the doctor. Come – please… But listen, are you aware there are Bolshevik cavalry in this area?’

  ‘We know it now, all right. They shot at us – when we flew over a farmstead nine or ten versts from here. Is there more than one group of them?’

  ‘I couldn’t say. We only know of them from a man who came in yesterday. He’d seen them from some wood where he was hiding for several days, he said. But this has decided us to get out – while the going’s good, as they say. Could be a good time to take your English girls, at that… Intending to fly off with them, are you?’

  ‘Can’t, unfortunately. No room. Best thing would be if they could get to Debaltsevo – where I could meet them and take them on. Perhaps you could take them that far… Are you a doctor?’

  ‘No – just a hanger-on. Soldier, of sorts. Had the rank of major – acting colonel once, for three days – but since then I’ve served as private, corporal and sergeant.’ He shrugged. ‘Take your choice.’

  ‘I’ll settle for major.’

  ‘As you wish. A private soldier has better chances of survival, though, these days.’

  ‘Yes. I suppose… But – second question – have there been any trains through on this line?’

  ‘One – a few days ago. We put our wounded on it. It seemed natural to assume there’d be others, but so far—’ he shook his head – ‘No such luck. We’re preparing now to set off with the carts, making for Ekaterinoslav… Where did you fly from?’

  ‘Kupyansk. An hour’s flight, bit less.’

  ‘Merciful God – just one hour… And are there trains on the line south from there?’

  ‘At the moment. At least there’ve been quite a few hospital trains, in the last few days.’

  They were face to face with this other man now: a stooped figure, in the obligatory heavy overcoat and fur hat, only a triangle of very pale, black-stubbled face visible between the turned-up peaks of the coat’s collar. Schelokov introduced him and then the others, as they closed in to the waiting group: ‘Doctor Aleksei Markov – who’s lucky to be alive. He had typhus. Our matron and the sestritsi whom you want to take away pulled him through it… Doctor – and ladies – this is Commander – Kaun, did you say?’

  ‘Cowan. Robert Aleksandr’ich Cowan.’ He’d shaken the doctor’s hand. Schelokov continuing with introductions: ‘Our matron – Mamasha – Liza Sokolova.’ A tall woman, wisps of grey hair visible, deepset brown eyes: Bob held her long, bony hand for a moment. Then another nurse, also middle-aged, whom they all called Annushka; and finally the two English girls – one rather small and the other larger, both shapeless in bulky army greatcoats, Schelokov introduced the little one first: ‘This is Katya. And this, Maria… Ah – Maria Peel-king-ton. And Katya is Ridd.’

  ‘Reid.’

  ‘Tochno. Exactly.’ Half-smiling as he looked at her. Avuncular: or a regard that might have reflected the thought If only I were ten years younger… There’d been a touch of sadness a minute ago, too, in that whom you want to take away… ‘Commander Cowan is of the Britanskii Korolyevskii Flot, ladies.’

  ‘Navy?’

  Katya glanced at her friend. ‘What did you think that uniform was, silly?’

  Laughing… She was rather pretty, from as much as one could see. Dark hair, and very light blue eyes; and a small, well-shaped nose… He explained to her and the other girl, in English, ‘I’m in a staff job, based at Constantinople. I talk Russian so I’m the man they send out on errands. And you see, your parents have been – er – making enquiries—’

  ‘Making a great hullabaloo, d’you mean?’

  Smiling: and Mary was laughing, displaying rather large teeth. Hazel eyes, turned-up nose with freckles on it: one could well imagine her as a children’s nanny. He nodded: ‘I dare say. They’re worried for you, anyway, want you home. But we thought you were in the Crimea, and I was sent to Sevastopol to winkle you out, and – well, cutting it short the RAF very kindly offered to fly me over here to see if we could spot you. Snags being (a) that the RAF detachment is sitting on a train at Kupyansk and may pull out at any moment – Red cavalry supposed to be encircling the place within a day or so, we’re told – and (b) this aeroplane only has room for the pilot in his cockpit and me in the other. What it all boils down to is the best solution would be for you to get yourselves to Debaltsevo.’

  ‘Debaltsevo.’ Katya frowned. ‘We’ve been rather hoping to get on some train – all of us – but—’

  ‘Major Schelokov just told me.’

  ‘Not one single train on this line since – oh, four or five days ago.’ Mary Pilkington seemed to have taken over. ‘In any case – well, until the last few days – we’ve been concentrating on getting Doctor Markov back on his feet. But also – mostly, I suppose – waiting for – oh, I should have mentioned, we did at least get our patients away on that one train, which was something, to say the least – but we’ve been hoping—’

  Katya cut in again – they would have set up the letuchka in Karlovka, except for ‘this typhus thing’… Typhus in Karlovka, or Dr Markov’s – it wasn’t clear, didn’t matter – but because of it they’d established themselves here in the open, had put up a spare tent every morning right on the railway crossing with its red cross clearly visible to the driver of any approaching train… ‘Then yesterday this wounded artilleryman – he had a shell-splinter in his knee, Doctor Markov got it out for him – no anaesthetic, if you please, and the very last drop of our peroxide – anyway, he told us he’d been in hiding in the woods up there and he’s seen Bolshevik cavalry detachments several times. And sooner or later you can bet they’d find us. So we’ve decided – that’s to say Doctor Markov and the Major decided – we’ll start trekking towards Ekaterinoslav, rather than wait longer in the hope of a train. We’ve started packing up, in fact.’

  ‘Except for this one man you’ve no patients now?’

  ‘Two. That one and a boy who didn’t want to go on the train – screamed blue murder, so we kept him. He’s just – shellshocked… But just as well we got all the rest away, we’ve really nothing left – no drugs, not even sterile dressings or iodine or—’

  He asked the doctor, ‘Why Ekaterinoslav?’

  ‘Because it’s our base. Base hospital, this division’s headquarters.’

  ‘But wouldn’t you agree that with the Poltava flank turned – as it must be, or damn soon will be, now they’ve broken through at Kharkov—’

  ‘You think the direction of Debaltsevo would be better?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I know it’s a long haul, but there still might be a train and you might get on it. It’s the direct route to Rostov, too, and on to Novorossisk – which is now the only port available for embarkation, evacuation to the Crimea for instance. And the area’s still in White hands, after all. But also – I was just saying, to these girls – I could get down from Kupyansk to Debaltsevo to meet them. In fact from there I might be able to organize a train – if I knew you were coming down along this line?’

  Schelokov murmured, ‘Man’s talking sense.’

  ‘You’ll be travelling in your own carts, I gather.’ Looking past the groups of tents he could see three carts and three hobbled horses; also some person dragging a tarpaulin cover off one of the carts. He nodded in that direction: ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘The Tartar driver.’ Schelokov told him, ‘The letuchka had two, but we sent one off with another cart loaded with wounded some time ago. I’m second coachman now.’

  ‘So – three men and four women. Plus the two wounded.’ He was looking at the carts. Thinking of the distance they had to cover, and of Budyonny’s encircling cavalry, and this small party protected only by one able-bodied though middle-aged male: the doctor being still convalescent, and the Tartar not counting for all that much, in terms of dependability.

  ‘And you have that fourgon and – two dvukolki?’

  ‘Yes.’ Schelokov nodded. ‘I see the question in your mind. The answ
er is that one of these young ladies will also drive. They can take it in turn, in fact. They’ve had some practice, they’re both competent. And when he’s stronger I imagine that Doctor Markov—’

  ‘Oh, I’m strong enough right now!’

  ‘No, doctor, you are not.’ The matron turned to Bob. ‘I think it should be explained that we’ve had another reason for waiting here, namely the hope that Letuchka number four would be withdrawing in this direction and we could join up together. The reason for this in the first place being that soon after we got here Dr Markov became ill, and it was the course he urged on me. Before he became incoherent, and in the full expectation that he would die, he foresaw our predicament – a letuchka without a doctor, and in all this chaos and confusion… If we could join up with Letuchka chetiri – who’d replaced us at Bogodukhov in the front line when we were moved back to Valki, we’d been with them several days and we’d all come to know each other – well, it seemed a very good solution. Although in the event it hasn’t happened. Nobody knows what’s been happening, up there…’

  Checking the time… ‘But you had reason to believe they’d have been falling back this way.’

  ‘You see, during the time we were at Valki we lost contact with our base at Ekaterinoslav. Supplies then came to us from the Army in Kharkov: orders too, and in this instance they sent a young man on horseback to tell us to retreat again, and that again Letuchka number four would take our place. Orders had been sent to them as well, at Bogodukhov. As well they might have – the way things were going by then… So, we moved – with our carts packed to their brims, taking every wounded man who had some chance. Including some whom Boris Vasil’ich had brought to us.’ She glanced at Schelokov. ‘He’d come just before this – fortunately with his own transport. Otherwise—’

  The doctor put in quietly. ‘Letuchki have been obliged to abandon their wounded before this, Liza Pavlovna.’

  ‘The point I’m making is that we did not.’

  ‘Except for the hopeless cases.’

  ‘Yes. I said that. Although if Letuchka chetiri weren’t too long in getting there after we left—’

  ‘They’d have had graves to dig, as well as latrines.’ He shrugged. ‘At least the wolves couldn’t have got at them, this time. Our dear friends and colleagues, the wolves…’

  ‘I think you should rest, doctor. Go inside, lie down. You’re not strong yet – not by a long chalk – and we’ll be travelling all night, remember.’

  He’d turned away. Muttering, ‘I can sleep in the cart.’

  ‘Annushka.’ The matron signalled with her head, and the other nurse nodded, went over to the doctor and took his arm, murmuring to him. The matron called, ‘Please, Aleksei Mikhail’ich. For all our sakes.’ She looked back at Bob. ‘I only want you to understand why we’ve waited here this long. In case the question should be asked – you’d be in a position to explain… At first it was for our own benefit – the prospect of having no doctor – but more recently it’s been very much more our concern for them. What state they might be in when they did get here – or they could be prisoners, even, or – well, God help them…’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘God help them.’

  What she was really expressing, he realized, was her own sense of guilt in having to start out tonight without this other team. She was saying God help them because we can’t, now… While in his own mind another question nudged the surface – out of this concept of prevailing chaos, groups of people lost… ‘I don’t suppose – by any chance – not in that letuchka but in any other, or for that matter in your hospital at Ekaterinoslav – you wouldn’t I suppose have known someone—’

  He let the question fade. The Tartar had come over to Dr Markov with some long complaint or argument; Schelokov had stepped in there now, but the matron had been visibly distracted. And meanwhile one was conscious of having spent too long here already: Sam Scott would be – to put it mildly – getting restive. All one needed now, in fact, was agreement on making a rendezvous at or near Debaltsevo; the rest of this was time-wasting.

  Schelokov came back to them. ‘Fellow can’t tolerate the idea of leaving so much food behind.’

  ‘Oh, was that it?’ The matron nodded. ‘He does have a point. When half the population’s starving.’ She turned back to Bob. ‘You were asking me – would I have known whom?’

  ‘A nurse by name of Nadia – well, she’s now Nadia Solovyeva—’

  ‘Of course!’ Her face had lit up… ‘In Letuchka chetiri – she and her sister-in-law Irina – the very people we’ve been discussing!’ Looking round at the others: ‘This Anglichan drops on us out of the sky, and he knows our poor darling Nadia!’

  ‘Why d’you say—’

  Schelokov cut in: ‘You’ve mentioned her before… Wasn’t she the Princess Egorova, before her marriage?’

  ‘Why, yes—’

  ‘You know her too?’

  He shook his head. ‘My parents knew hers. Years ago. Then Liza Pavlovna here mentioned her and her sister-in-law recently, I wondered then…’

  Bob looked back at the matron. ‘Why did you say poor darling Nadia, what’s—’

  ‘Oh. You didn’t hear.’ Her eyes had closed as she crossed herself. ‘Oh, dear. How very sad it is…’ Katya – Katherine – touched Bob’s sleeve, told him quietly in English as he turned to her, ‘The husband was killed, up on that front.’

  *

  Looking back on it afterwards, it seemed to have been a time less of decision than of reaction. Almost like waking suddenly from a long sleep – waking late, so there was this immediate, driving urgency – and no need to decide on what had to be done because that decision had already been taken – somehow, at some earlier stage… The only problems that needed to be sorted out – at once, and largely by blundering right through them – were questions of detail and how best – quickest – to have everyone else recognize and accept the situation as it was.

  Scott in particular, of course. But lack of time was to one’s advantage. And that murky sky – a threatening backdrop to the fact there wasn’t much more than an hour of daylight left. Scott wasn’t going to stay on the ground a minute longer than he had to.

  The girls were easy. And the matron, naturally quick in her grasp of essentials, agreed instantly. Doctor Markov was obviously pleased, though puzzled by the sudden change of plan. While Schelokov seemed to take it for granted, as if it was what he’d have done in any case.

  Which left only Scott.

  He’d seen them coming, and was climbing out of the observer’s cockpit. Bob, Schelokov and the two girls, each of whom had a bundle of personal essentials gathered hurriedly from their tent, Bob telling them as they ran towards the aeroplane – Scott was in his own cockpit by this time, standing, shouting at Bob for God’s sake to get a bloody move on – telling the girls, ‘The man who sent me to find you is Colonel Temple, Royal Marines, Staff Officer (Intelligence) on our naval staff in Constantinople. When you get to Novorossisk all you need do is identify yourselves to any RN ship’s captain and ask him to contact Temple. One exchange of signals and you’re home and dry.’

  Schelokov added, trotting along beside them, ‘And in England all the church bells will start ringing, huh?’

  ‘You’ve been so kind to us, Boris Vasil’ich.’ Mary, smiling at him as she ran. ‘So grateful.’

  ‘Nye za shto… You were more than kind to me – remember?’

  Katherine panted, ‘Perhaps we’ll see you at Novorossisk. Or somewhere.’

  ‘Somewhere better than that, I hope, Kate. London, Boris?’

  ‘Yes.’ Katherine again. ‘Somewhere where people don’t keep dying all the time.’

  ‘I’m going with him, Katya.’

  Bob glanced at the Russian: thinking he might have misheard, or misunderstood. Schelokov adding, ‘But still, perhaps one day—’

  Scott bawled, ‘Cowan, for Christ’s sake, man—’

  ‘Sorry.’ They were at the ’plane: the girls breathl
ess from exertion and excitement, Scott glaring down at Bob. He panted, ‘Very sorry, Scott. Fact is—’

  ‘You’ve got to swing this damn thing for me – remember?’

  ‘Yes. Right.’ Standing below the cockpit, looking up at him. ‘But I’m not going back with you. So these two girls can – right?’

  ‘Have you gone raving mad?’

  ‘Scott.’ He pointed northward. ‘There’s another letuchka – people I know—’

  ‘I don’t believe this!’

  ‘These two must be got out, Scott. Those were Bolsheviks just down the road there – huh? And it’s a deuce of a long way to Debaltsevo – with the cavalry encirclement in progress. All very well just hoping for the best when there was nothing else we could do – but now there is… Look, you need to get started now – right?’

  ‘So how on earth will you—’

  ‘Come on, Mary. Take a hold there. Foot in here. That’s it. Then – here… Well done – now climb in.’ He’d taken her bundle from her, took Katherine’s as well now. ‘Up you go, Katherine. I’ll hand these up. Squeeze in as best you can – and there’s a strap… That’s the way…’

  ‘How do we ever thank you, Commander?’

  ‘You don’t… Listen, this man in front is Major Sam Scott. Doesn’t sound very friendly at the moment, but he’ll see you through all right. Oh, one of you better wear that helmet, so he can talk to you, and vice versa… Scott, be a good fellow, show them?’

  ‘Be a good fellow, he says. Damn four-flushing…’

  The protest tailed off. He was standing in his cockpit, leaning over to help the girls install themselves. Bob called up, ‘It all fits, Scott. If you’d think about it. This letuchka’s moving out tonight in horse-drawn carts. They’ll probably head along the line for Debaltsevo, and if you find yourself in a position to have a train sent up to meet them, they’ll bless you for it. And listen – this other letuchka – remember the yarn I spun about the girl who married the count? Well, she’s there – way up in what’s effectively Bolshevik territory now – and her husband’s been killed. So – I don’t have any option… Well, do I?’