aren't enough rifles for everyone, Comrade First Lieutenant. Who do you want to give them to?”
“Give one to Nagulin. To the others, as you can.”
“Yes.”
The Germans, meanwhile, had stopped. One of them was helping a wounded man at the motorcycle closest to us. The driver of the third motorcycle, which appeared from around the corner, immediately turned his vehicle around and drove back. Apparently, he was going to report the incident to his superior. Another German was moving slowly toward Fyodorov's position, trying not to block the range of fire of the machine gunner protecting him.
I finally got my hands on a gun and three cartridge magazines. Five rounds in the rifle and another 15 in the ammo bag. Not much, but thanks for that, too.
The enemy motorcyclists made sure that none of the attackers remained alive and settled back into their vehicles, taking the weapons of the dead. The wounded man was taken to the rear, while the remaining Germans waited for their comrades, who had gone to report to the commander, and once again rolled leisurely down the road toward us.
“Squad, to battle!” Our First Lieutenant, who knew no doubt, gave the order. The enemy must be destroyed wherever you meet him, and by all the means at your disposal. Such was the paradigm of this cruel time. Red Army soldiers and commanders were taught this in army manuals, and it was drummed into them in numerous classes by teachers and political officers until it became an integral part of their consciousness. The good thing, at least, was that Fedorov was aware of the importance of the effect of surprise, and gave the order quietly enough.
I decided to try to prevent this madness after all.
“Comrade First Lieutenant, there, just around the corner, are two armored personnel carriers with infantry and several more trucks!”
“You know too much, Nagulin!” hissed the First Lieutenant, “Maybe I shouldn't have given you that rifle. Why don't you tell me where they came from? And where are our units?”
“You know what I mean, Comrade First Lieutenant,” I answered softly, fearing greatly that I might be told to be silent again. But apparently the advance warning of the enemy had given me some credit in the eyes of my commander, and he preferred to hear me out after all.
“If the Germans are already here, it means that the Khristinovka station has long been captured by them, and the front is broken through. Our units apparently withdrew to the south and north. No cannonade can be heard in front, but on the right and especially behind, the rumbling grows stronger and stronger.”
Of course, I didn't say everything I knew. The Germans we ran into were one of the forward units of the 125th Wehrmacht Infantry Division. We were already so far into the mousetrap that Uman and its environs have become, that there were no normal escape routes left. To break through to the west would be pure madness. Even if there are Red Army men there, they are only the remnants of defeated and surrounded units. There was also no point in going north, in the direction of Kiev. The place was now packed with German infantry, which was pulling up after the motorized units that had moved forward to Talny. And even if we had broken through there, we would not have had any prospects, because we would have fallen into a new, even larger pocket, which was also already marked with all certainty around the capital of Soviet Ukraine. Three selected German divisions, two of which are tank divisions, are waiting for us in the east, and we have absolutely nothing to gain in this direction. That leaves the south, but there we will at best find units of the 6th and 12th Armies surrounded. Of course, this is much nicer than being taken prisoner by the Germans right away, but it's also pretty bleak prospect.
“Stop panicking, soldier!” said the First Lieutenant, as if trying to kill me with his gaze, but somewhere in the depths of his pupils I saw uncertainty and even fear. The Commander understood that I was right, he understood it very well, but he tried not to show it in front of his subordinates.
“That's right, Comrade First Lieutenant,” I answered, raising my hand to my cap, “We have one way left – to the south. That's where our units should be. At least they'll give us normal weapons. And with two dozen rifles against five machine guns we'll achieve nothing anyway, we'll just lay here all for nothing, without doing the enemy proper damage.”
I saw something very bad in the looks of the First Lieutenant and the Sergeant. I don't even know how it would have ended for me, but then the first Hanomag came out of the woods, roaring with its engine and clanking its caterpillars. I could clearly see a machine gun mounted on top of the cabin of the armored personnel carrier and rows of helmets above the armor.
“We'll finish with you later,” Fyodorov told me, and, ducking down, ran somewhere to the right flank, “To the battle! Squad, fire on the Nazi invaders!”
Well, that was it. Let him throw himself under the tracks, but there are more than a hundred young guys, most of them unarmed! I grabbed my rifle comfortably and looked around. Shots rang out around me indiscriminately, and the unarmed men just lay on the ground, keeping their heads down to avoid the hail of bullets that rained down on our low shelter from two sides – from the motorcycle patrol that had gone forward and the Hanomags that crawled out from behind the forest. German infantrymen were already jumping briskly out of the backs of armored personnel carriers and taking positions in the ditch, clearly preparing for an attack.
“Why aren't you shooting, Nagulin?” the deputy commander roared above my ear.
“I am choosing my position, Comrade Sergeant,” I answered as firmly as possible, “We have to shut up the machine guns, or we'll all get killed here.”
“Fire, soldier! Or I'll shoot you myself!”
“You can shoot me after the battle, Comrade Sergeant, but right now don't get in the way,” I answered angrily and crawled a few meters to the left, where a dust cloud rose from the machine gun burst that had recently rattled on the embankment.
Continuing to test the sergeant's patience was simply dangerous. I closed my eyes for a second to look at the battlefield from above. The greatest threat to us now, oddly enough, was not the Hanomags, but the two machine guns on the motorcycles that passed us by. These Germans were much closer to our position and shot much more accurately than the machine gunners from the armored personnel carriers.
I targeted the motorcycle closest to us, relaxed my arms and shoulders a little, went into combat mode and with a sharp movement I lifted myself slightly above the embankment. The plop of my shot was lost in the crackle of machine gun bursts and rifle fire. I didn't look at the result and immediately hid behind the embankment. Nevertheless, I was spotted, and several bullets struck the rails at once with a rumble.
“One down,” I told the Sergeant, once again taking advantage of the 'view from above', I'll change position and silence the other.”
“Are you sure you hit him?” Pluzhnikov asked incredulously.
“I'm sure,” I nodded affirmatively, “but I don't recommend checking right now. I'll calm down the other one, then it will be safer.”
“He doesn't recommend…” The Sergeant started, but I wasn't listening, crawling quickly to the left.
Shot! A sharp pain jerked my temple, but I didn't even notice it right away. This time the Germans seemed to be purposefully waiting for my head to appear over the rails, though not quite where I actually ended up. But the German gunner showed excellent reaction. I was lucky that it wasn't a bullet that hit me in the head, but a pebble that it knocked out of the embankment. But it rang a very bad bell for me. If I keep getting exposed to enemy fire like this, my glorious journey
