Portartur. 1940. Boris Trofimov
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Portartur. 1940 - Boris Trofimov страница 27
– How are you? The general shooter asked, with his right hand bandaged.
– All the trenches ruined. Their guns are beating, and ours are silent. Machine guns would be more. Dense wall go, creatures. – Fock’s face remained calm.
“What a tactic! And I was not. Two or three deft maneuvers under the cover of trenches – and it was possible to surround them, “thought Fock and turned to the arrow:
– You want to smoke, take a cigarette.
The soldier stretched out as far as he could, went up to the general and extended his hand to the silver cigarette case. Fock also got himself a cigarette, struck a match and offered it to the soldier.
– Smoke.
– I humbly thank, Your Excellency.
Rising up the hill to the battery number 10, General Fock all the time received reports from Colonel Tretyakov:
“I don’t have any part at hand that I could restore the fight to.” All in their places, and one hope for the boldness of the soldiers and the courage of the officers.”
– Well well. “Everything is in its place,” Fock grinned. – And those that are dead. Childishness Lyrics. Nothing efficient. I would have looked good in the trenches.
Fock immediately sent the Tretyakov a reply: “I thank for the boldness. You have enough strength. On the left flank, in reserve, I send two more companies to the battery number 15.”
When he finished writing, the general straightened up, furrowed his forehead;
– And I forgot about General Nadein! I will write to him:
“To General Nadein. May 13, 1 pm Send immediately to the ravine north-west of Tafashin two companies to the battery number 15.”
“We must prepare for the night, we must prepare for the night,” the general repeated. Colonel Savitsky approached him:
– What are you, your Excellency?
– The matter is fixable. General Fock is not a fool, “Fock continued aloud his thought,” he knows what he is doing. General Fock will always be right no matter what happens. General Fok is wounded in the head, and in the wounded and contused forged brains…
Colonel Savitsky shuddered and walked away to the orderlies, but Fock called out to him:
– Colonel, send to the position of the eight giggles of cartridges at the disposal of the commandant Tretyakov. He reports that there are no bullets. What’s the matter? He himself recently sent two gigs, and now he is asking. It must be relieved from the heart. In addition, assign two companies at his personal disposal. I go uphill, mouths follow me.
“The devil will disassemble this person, mumbles something incoherent, looks like a madman, and gives sensible orders… But still, he overslept the fight. Sat in the rear. Now it is difficult to do something substantial, – thought Savitsky. – The results of the battle would be in our hands if there was one spare division on Tafashin. The enemy goes berserk, advancing during the day in such thick columns. And we have nothing to beat…
The enemy gunboats were silent.
The companies of Russian soldiers stretched along the road. The general rode on horseback. The higher up the hill, the more came across the wounded.
Fok stopped and gave him a new report Tretyakov:
“On the left side of Samson (between the height number 75 and Samson) there are 25—30 mouths. Half – in a column, half – in a deployed system. From the left flank of the position, bypassing it, there are two companies on the water. A large mass of versts in four from us. On the left flank there are about 10—12 companies and twelve guns.”
“What do you say to that, Colonel?”
Sawitsky, listening to the report, counted: “Twenty-five plus two, plus ten, a total of thirty-seven mouths visible, so what the hell knows how many invisible ones. And we have: two plus two, a total of four.”
– By evening, Your Excellency, are grouped.
“Immediately inform the Laperov battery, which is on the left flank, about the enemy moving through the water,” Fock ordered. – Hurry to Colonel Tretyakov.
The general spurred the horse, but immediately besieged it:
– Again report. Read, Colonel.
“From under Samson near the height of number 75 two 7—8 mouths go in two columns. Artillery also moves. Redoubt number 9 is completely cut off from the left flank by shells; the trench is also spoiled, but people still hold on.”
– Forward, follow me! – Fok shouted and rode away.
Savitsky wanted to follow him, but he was stopped by a train soldier:
– Your Excellency, two horses killed.
The colonel let the horse gallop to catch up with the division commander.
– Your Excellency, two horses harnessed in cartridges, loaded with cartridges, killed. There is a danger for others.
– To deliver cartridges to the Tretyakov in public.
– Why ammunition for the position, there is their warehouse. – What do you think the head of the position is lying and the warehouse does not burn?
– Cartridges are burning with a bang, Your Excellency, like fireworks.
– Investigate. If there are cartridges in stock near Battery No. 10, send the gigs to the rear.
Climbing onto the highway, Fock walked slowly. The general threw uneasy glances at the foothills of Samson, in the nearest ravines, at the railway track, looking for the location of the enemy’s batteries and chains. Looking around and crouching a little at the whistle of bullets, he considered the batteries maimed and already abandoned by the Russians.
Behind the battery number 10, the road went through completely open terrain, and there were at least four hundred steps to the nearest trenches. The general sat on a stone. The enemy shells now fell solely on the trenches and the ravines adjacent to them. Clouds of dust and smoke hung over the heads of the defenders. Lead balls and sharp fragments poured thickly on top, abruptly whipping along the walls of trenches and wooden shelters. It was impossible to stick your head out. Shrapnel rain was replaced by explosions of shells.
“Find Colonel Tretyakov, I need to see him,” Fock ordered and immediately wrote a telegram to Stossel:
“Now