I remembered that the enemy had at least one more machine gun on the third motorcycle, but I couldn't see where it was now, even using the satellite panorama. Around the bend in the road, three trucks stopped without coming under our fire. German infantrymen were now jumping out of two of them and, spurred on by commands from noncommissioned officers, were running straight through the woods to help their comrades.
I fired a few more shots in an effort to add confusion to the enemy's battle lines.
“Comrade Sergeant, we have to get the men out immediately before the Germans regroup and come to their senses. We have a lot of wounded. This is the best moment to pull back – we won't be able to break away later.”
Pluzhnikov glanced at me and opened his mouth for another rebuke in the spirit of the earlier quotation from the army manual, but the reality of the brutal battle must have shifted something in his obviously intelligent head, and instead of another crackling phrase he muttered only, “I have to report to the Commander,” and started ducking down the hill.
And then something happened that I tried not to believe, but which I was still afraid of somewhere inside. Below, at our positions, a discordant "Hurrah!" erupted, and about 50 Red Army men – all those who could still stand on their feet – rushed into a counterattack, led by the First Lieutenant. Less than half of them had rifles. Others clutched stones in their hands, and some simply ran toward the enemy with empty hands, aided only by a fierce shout.
“Why?!!!” I just didn't have the words to express my indignation and incomprehension, but now I had no choice but to support this suicidal counterattack with fire.
Machine guns started firing from the forest again, three at once. Apparently, the Germans from the trucks brought them with them. And I, naive as I was, thought how I could explain to Pluzhnikov and Fyodorov that even if we beat off the Germans now, in half an hour we would be flanked or destroyed by artillery fire, or rather both at the same time. But they won't outflank us, because none of us will be left alive.
I fired as fast as I could with my rifle, and at the same time yelled at the Sergeant who had gone down, to come back and get ammunition, but Pluzhnikov didn't seem to hear me.
After a minute my small ammunition ran out, and the Germans still had one machine gun, and a pair of 50-millimeter mortars started firing again. Of those who had risen in the counterattack, which almost instantly collapsed, only ten men were able to return under the cover of the embankment, but even there mines were already bursting, at least not very densely.
Encouraged by their success, the Germans moved forward again. No one else fired at them from our side. That's when I saw the Sergeant. Pluzhnikov tried to stop the Red Army men running toward the gully, but the men no longer had any moral strength to keep fighting. The beating at an unfortunate position and the ensuing counterattack, completely ill-conceived and unprepared, broke their morale and will to resist.
It was all over very quickly. The German soldiers reached the railroad, stopped, threw a dozen grenades across the tracks, waited for the explosions and jerked their way over the embankment. There didn't seem to be any survivors at our former squad position. Only those Red Army men who managed to run to the gully were able to escape.
Chapter 5
The Germans did not pursue us. Apparently, they had their orders, and their commander considered it inexpedient to be distracted from carrying them out. I went to catch up with the rest of our detachment going north, where we absolutely should not have moved, but the road to the south was cut off by the German column, and the west and east seemed to me no better than the north.
It took me several hours to find the Sergeant, and that was only thanks to the data from the orbit. So far, I have been an absolutely untalented pathfinder. My entire practice of walking through the woods was reduced to a couple of weeks of trekking through the taiga, again with the help of satellite navigation. What I had in abundance was stamina and good coordination of movement, so that I could still move over rough terrain quite quickly.
Pluzhnikov and three other fighters stopped for a halt in the middle of the forest – they evidently were afraid to go out into the open. The Sergeant and two Red Army men were sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree eating stew from a crumpled can, drinking water from the flasks and eating rye bread. The fourth fighter, in whom I recognized Boris with a joy that surprised me, stood at his post, gazing intently into the woods. He didn't try to take cover or even sit down, but he was turning his head with a zeal worthy of better use. As a result, I noticed him first, although, in theory, it should have been the other way around.
“Boris!” I called softly to the sentry.
The soldier twitched, grabbing his rifle, and I hastily added:
“It's me, fighter Nagulin. I come out slowly and empty-handed.”
I threw my rifle behind my back, and walked leisurely toward my comrades' camp.
“Are you alone?” asked the Sergeant, who jumped up at the first sound of my voice and almost dropped the can of stew on the ground.
“Alone,” I confirmed, “no one followed me, I seem to be the last one. What about the Commander?”
“He was killed at the very beginning of the counterattack,” answered Pluzhnikov briefly looking me in the eyes, “he was shot down with the first burst.”
“Comrade Sergeant, permission to ask you a question?”
“No permission, Nagulin. We'll talk later, I'll call you myself,” the Sergeant cast an expressive glance at the Red Army men gathered around us. “Soldier Sintsov!”
“That's me!”
“You're on duty.”
“Copy that!”
“Chezhin and Nagulin, eat quickly, and we have to keep moving.”
I checked around just in case, but found no immediate danger. We were in a relatively secluded spot that the German convoys crawling along the roads didn't care about yet.
“Fall in line,” the Sergeant commanded quietly as we finished our can of stew and ate the rest of the bread, “Listen to the battle order! Given the unfavorable change in the situation and the death of First Lieutenant Fyodorov, our main task is to get to our troops as soon as possible. As a senior officer, I take command of the squad. My deputy is Red Army man Nagulin. We will break through to the east by the shortest route. We move stealthily, do not engage in combat with the superior forces of the enemy. Whoever opens fire without orders – I will shoot him personally. Any questions?”
“Comrade Sergeant, where are we on ammunition?” I immediately asked, “My ammunition is all used up.”
“Weapons and ammo for inspection!” The Sergeant nodded, and was the first to take the magazines out of the ammo pouches.
We had three rifles and forty rounds of ammunition for the five of us. It wasn't just a paucity, it was nothing at all. Pluzhnikov gloomily examined this wealth and gave out a somewhat unexpected solution for everyone:
“Chezhin, Nagulin and I take the rifles. Chezhin and I get ten rounds each, Nagulin gets 20. Sintsov goes to the head patrol. The rest of the group sticks together. Chezhin, you watch the rear. Nagulin, you're the sniper anyway. You don't go forward, you choose your own position and cover the squad's actions.”
“Copy that!”
“Any questions?” The Sergeant looked at us again.
