Chapter 23

 

Stalingrad, December 15^th, 1943

 

 Rivka Koulikova stood in the empty space of what had once been her home. The cellar seemed cavernous now it was stripped of its furniture and belongings, and the few things Rivka was having to leave behind seemed pitiful now in the huge room. The cellar had once more returned to its origins … no more than a storage area, and an old, battered one at that. In a few weeks time it would cease to exist. The bulldozers were moving in, the ruins above being demolished to make way for a new building that would become part of the revitalised city of Stalingrad.

 

She shifted Vasha in her arms and thought of the things this ancient building had seen … and of her time living in its confines. She had been brought here as a bride, and had been abandoned by her husband. She had scraped a bare living for years, eating what she could barter for and doing what she could to stay alive. In the welcoming shadows of its embrace she had met a big, lonely soldier who had brought her so much joy, and it was here she had learned to love and be loved. Safe from the ravages of war that had raged above, she and her Nikolai had loved for the first time, and it was here their son had been conceived and born. Here she had held Nikolai Koulikov in her arms through dark hours of nightmare and nursed him through injury and illness, and it was here he had protected her from the evil that was Gavri Velonin. It was in this ancient place that Nikolai had finally made her his adored wife. The old cellar had nurtured them, kept them safe and provided warmth and comfort in terrible times. For a moment Rivka felt a wave of great sadness at the loss of her home.

 

“Ready?”

 

Rivka turned at the sound of the deep voice to find Nikolai standing beside her. He put his arm around his wife and son and smiled. Rivka kissed him gently.

 

“Yes, my Niko … we’re ready. Everything’s packed and …” She hesitated for a moment. “Well, everything comes to an end, but I’m sure that whatever comes, it will all turn out for the best.”

 

Nikolai looked down at his son and sighed.

 

“I hope so. Y’know, it’s not too late to change your mind, Rivka. I mean, Danilov could find us a place for you to live, he’s told you that often enough. And he would look out for you and Vasha as though you were his own, you know that.”

 

Rivka looked up into her husband’s concerned blue eyes. For the past few weeks, as they had planned and worked towards this momentous change in their lives, Nikolai – although supportive and loving – had nevertheless been unhappy about Rivka’s decision to move with him to Kiev. It wasn’t that he didn’t want or need his family around him … it was just that there was something bothering him deeply, and she couldn’t figure out what it was. He was not sleeping well and he had withdrawn into himself, and many a night he had woken yelling with fear when the old nightmares returned. Only Rivka’s soothing words and gentle touch calmed him, although she could only guess at what caused them. She knew it was to do with his imprisonment, but that was all. He never spoke of it otherwise, and Rivka did not press him on the matter. But still, she thought, he looks exhausted. She worried in turn at inadvertently causing him so much concern, but she knew in her heart that it was the right thing to do. Once they were in Kiev and settled, life would be better for them all, she was sure.

 

“Niko, love, our place is with you, so stop worrying, you big fool! It’ll be fine, you’ll see.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Now … it’s time.” She squeezed his hand where it lay on her arm. “Let’s get going before I start to cry!”

 

Turning, they slowly walked out of the old cellar, closing the heavy old door behind them for the last time. Climbing the steps out into the brilliant winter sunshine, Rivka watched as Nikolai slammed the trapdoor shut, but stopped him from locking it.

 

“No … leave it, love. Maybe someone can make use of it for the few weeks it’ll be here. The stove still works and there’s some wood left … perhaps it will keep someone warm who needs it.”

 

Nikolai shook his head, amused and touched by her tender-heartedness. But then, that was what made Rivka who she was.

 

“All right woman, whatever you say. Now then, let’s get going shall we?” He settled his ushanka on his head and took Vasha from Rivka’s arms as she began to say farewell to the small gathering of friends who had come to say goodbye and wish them well.

 

Igor Semyonovich Danilov stood in the snow, clad in a warm greatcoat and rubbing his gloved hands together in the sub-zero temperatures. Nikolai clapped the young Commissar on the shoulder and grinned.

 

“You take care, boy, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, y’hear me?” His smile softened. “And if you can get some leave and come visit, you do just that – Rivka will be worrying herself into a frazzle thinking you’re not looking after yourself, so don’t be a stranger.”

 

Danilov nodded. He would miss Rivka and Nikolai desperately. Their home had become his too, and he would miss their company. Rivka had told him he was ‘family’, and that meant a great deal to the young man. He leaned over and gave Vasha a kiss on his chubby cheek, and the child reached out for Igor’s spectacles, entranced as always by the shiny reflection in the lenses. Danilov smiled even as the tears sprang to his dark eyes. He would miss Vasha most of all, he thought. Yes … it was wonderful to have a family. He almost wept when Rivka pulled him into her arms for a hug, holding him tight as though she would never let go. But let go she did, reluctantly, kissing him on both cheeks and murmuring how much she would miss him.

 

Oleg Chernyenko and his heavily-pregnant wife Anna stood beside Danilov. Oleg had his arm around his wife, worried about her standing outside on this bitterly cold day. But Anna shushed him telling him she felt well enough, although they all knew she had not had an easy pregnancy so far.

 

Rivka hugged her carefully, noticing the pale face and shadows under Anna’s beautiful grey eyes. Anna suffered dreadfully with nausea even now, and did not sleep well or eat as she should. Oleg fretted constantly.

 

“Go home, Anna, please,” Rivka said softly, “you shouldn’t be standing about in this snow. Oleg, take her home will you?”

 

“No, no, Rivka, I’m feeling fine, so stop worrying, both of you!” Anna replied before Oleg could open his mouth to answer. “I’ve not been so sick these past few days, and I had some breakfast this morning, didn’t I Oleg?” She looked up at her husband, her face alive with love for him.

 

“Not enough, by a long chalk – but yes, she ate something,” Oleg said, smiling at his wife.

 

Anna grinned at him, and patted Oleg’s heavily-jacketed arm.

 

“He’s just a fussy old doctor … don’t take any notice.” She held Rivka’s hands in hers, loathe to let go of her friend just yet. “You’ll let us know you got there all right, won’t you? And that you’re all well, and that you’ve settled in?”

 

“Yes, little one,” said Nikolai, tipping her chin up so he could look into her thin face. “We’ll let you know as soon as we get there. Now my girl, you must go home and get some rest – you look all washed out!” He stuck out a big hand and Oleg Chernyenko shook it vigorously. “You behave yourself , and let us know when the baby comes – Rivka will drive me crazy worrying about you both, so if you’re at all concerned with my sanity you’ll send word as soon as you can!” Nikolai sobered for a moment. “I can’t say enough about how much I owe you, boy. You saved my life, and you helped our son into the world. You’re as good a friend as a fellow could want, lad, so be careful and take care. We’ll miss you both.”

 

For the next few minutes they said their goodbyes to loyal, good friends. Tears were spilt and hugs were exchanged, and Rivka couldn’t stop the break in her voice as she said farewell.

 

But they were interrupted by the honk of a horn, and they all turned to see a battered GAZ jeep make its way slowly up the snowy street. Behind it, waiting at the bottom of the street ready to head westward, was a small convoy of trucks. The lead truck was driven by Lubov, the young mechanic hanging out of the window and waving cheerfully. It was time to go.

 

The jeep reached the small group, turned around awkwardly in the confined, narrow street, and ground to a halt beside the trapdoor. Corporal Ivan Grigorvich Nikitin opened the driver’s door and stepped out into the sunshine.

 

“Well, Missus – are you ready?” Nikitin grinned, showing a small village of rotting teeth.

 

“Yes, Ivan, we’re ready. Niko?”

 

Nikolai handed Vasha back to his mother and lifted his heavy Sidor bag and an old warbag that contained Rivka and Vasha’s clothes. The brawny soldier didn’t have much other than the clothes he stood up in and a spare pair of combinations, but Vasha had plenty of warm clothes to keep him cozy on the trip. The rest of their belongings – including their old bed, Nikolai’s chair and the sofa – were secreted about the big convoy trucks, tucked away underneath mechanical equipment and bits of tanks. He heaved the bags into the back of the big, four-wheel-drive jeep and lifted his rifle. 

 

As Rivka hugged Anna, Nikolai studied her for a moment, and smiled to himself. Rivka had taken the trip very seriously indeed, and the first thing she had done was find herself some warm trousers and boots from a supply officer who owed her payment for repairing his clothes. She had found a man’s gymnastiorka and a coat at the hospital, and dug out a pair of warm gloves. Tucking her scarf around her head and neck, she looked as warm as toast. Vasha was similarly garbed in heavy, warm clothing and Nikolai decided with amusement that he looked like a small, fat, animated sausage. Rivka had packed plenty of food, determined that neither her husband or son would starve, and the bag she carried over one shoulder contained cheese and bread, a large canister of soup ready to be heated on a portable stove, and plenty of tea. There was also a little bag of small, sweet apples, thanks to young Lubov’s pilfering, and she kept them for Nikolai. The big man loved anything sweet if he could get it, and apples were a particular favourite.

 

Final hugs were offered and accepted, and Nikolai helped Rivka clamber onto the leather seat of the GAZ, her bag beside her and Vasha on her knee. Nikolai put a couple of heavy, warm blankets around both his wife and son – the GAZ’s removable top wasn’t exactly windproof, and the vehicle had no adequate heating system. Turning back to his friends he straightened and snapped them his smartest salute. He had never before felt such a wrench at leaving a place, and he saw the heartbreak in the faces of these people he loved. The feeling just about broke his own great heart.

 

Sliding into the passenger seat he looked over at Nikitin and nodded.

 

“Let’s go, Corporal.”

 

Corporal Ivan Grigorvich Nikitin, who was himself almost on the verge of tears, shifted gears, let out the clutch and drove the jeep down the old, bombed-out street towards the convoy.

 

Behind him Nikolai could hear a soft sob as Rivka finally allowed the tears to flow, and he watched the figures in the wing-mirror grow smaller and smaller until the jeep turned left onto the main road, and then the figures were gone.

 

************************

 

The first day, on reflection, hadn’t been too bad, Nikolai decided.

 

The roads were bad. Rutted and often full of shell-holes, the problem was compounded by the snow and more than once the convoy had to make its way through troughs of mud and icy water that almost came to the bottom of the doors. But both the jeep and the heavy GAZ trucks were more than up to the job, although the small armoured car that brought up the rear tried to skirt the deep holes if it could.

 

Rivka found the armoured car highly amusing. Small and looking not unlike a badly-designed corned-beef tin, it rumbled along behind them with its two-man crew freezing in its heavily-armoured confines. But she knew that the car was very effective against shelling, and the machine-gun on its roof was meticulously clean and well-cared for. The crew were war-hardened veterans of the battle of Kursk.

 

Rivka was enthralled as they passed through the snow-covered countryside. She had hardly travelled at all in her life, other than to leave the village of her birth to come to Stalingrad, and she watched, fascinated, as the convoy made its way through bombed-out villages and empty, ruined fields. Occasionally she saw people, mostly women, bundled against the cold and hauling huge loads of firewood on their bent backs. She saw no men, and, to her surprise, hardly any animals. There were a few scrawny goats and sheep now and again, but no cattle or the small, Ukrainian draft horses the peasants used for agricultural work. She supposed they had been eaten long ago, or destroyed by the German army as it retreated westwards.

 

At mid-day they stopped. Pulling into a small village that seemed to consist of nothing more than a few half-destroyed houses, they halted in what had obviously been the village square in better times. The motor-pool crew piled out of the trucks, and together with the half-dozen regulars hitching a lift to the front and the two men in the armoured car, they set up a couple of portable paraffin stoves and heated some food and two big pots of water for tea.

 

Vasha was cranky with hunger. Rivka had surreptitiously breast-fed him as he lay under the warm blankets, but now he was wanting something more substantial in his stomach, and, she realised, he needed changing. She was on the point of lying him down on the back seat of the jeep when Nikolai, trudging back from where he had been checking on the men, stopped her.

 

“No you don’t, Missus – you come with me. Corporal Nikitin has fixed something up that you might find a bit more comfy.” He grinned at the mystified look on his wife’s face as she carefully clambered out of the back of the jeep and followed him, a whiny Vasha tucked against her.

 

Nikolai led her to the rear of the first truck – Lubov’s truck. He let down the tail-gate and gestured at the interior, his face alive with amusement. Rivka peered in … and gasped.

 

Surrounded by boxes and various bits and pieces of equipment was a mattress, covered by warm blankets and a couple of army-issue pillows. The little bed was lit by one of the motor-pool lights, the electric flex wending its way under the truck’s canvas cover around to the hood where it disappeared underneath into the depths of the engine and was attached to the heavy-duty battery. The tiny sleeping area looked warm, cozy and very inviting.

 

“Oh, Ivan!! You are a treasure!” And she kissed the blushing Corporal on his stubbly cheek. 

 

“Well!” He stammered, “Well I never …”

 

“Up you go, woman!” Nikolai helped Rivka into the truck and Nikitin passed Vasha up to her. After handing her the war-bag containing Vasha’s things, Nikolai dropped down the tail-flap on the truck and went to organise some food for his wife and baby son.

 

For the next hour or so the convoy relaxed, with men standing about sipping hot tea and smoking, chatting about the trip and swapping stories. Once Vasha was changed and fed, Rivka tucked her now-sleepy son into a bed of blankets and joined Nikolai.

 

Looking around at the sprawl of trucks and listening to the banter of the soldiers around her, she was once more made aware of this world of soldiering her husband had lived within for all of his adult life. She saw how he talked easily to the men, at home with the tough, hardy soldiers who fought this dreadful war. She smiled at his banter and watched how they regarded him with respect that often bordered on awe. Never had she been more aware of his reputation until this moment. As she ate her soup and black bread she realised there were no other officers in the convoy, and Nikolai carried the burden of leadership on his broad shoulders with such ease that she couldn’t help her chest swelling with pride.

 

As they began to pack up and ready themselves to leave, Rivka noticed one of the doors of the battered houses open and an old woman emerged. She looked at Rivka for long moments and then hesitantly walked towards her, a small can in one hand. As she reached Rivka, she held out the can.

 

“For your baby.” The old woman’s voice was cracked and dry, but Rivka could see a pair of lively green eyes under the bundle of ragged clothing and scarf she wore. The can contained goat’s milk.

 

“I can’t take your food - ” She tried to push back the can, but the old woman wouldn’t have it.

 

“Take it, girl! The baby needs it more than me, and my goat gives plenty still. All I ask is that I can see the child.” Those green eyes studied Rivka expectantly.

 

The rest of the soldiers were beginning to gather around, curious now. Rivka thought for a moment then nodded. Trotting back to the truck she reached in and retrieved Vasha, now drowsily awake and in a good humour, and carried him back to the old woman who smiled, showing toothless gums.

 

“A boy,” she said instantly, although it was almost impossible to tell at a glance as Vasha was so bundled up in clothing. “A fine lad, too. He’ll be big and strong, just like his father.” She gestured at Nikolai with her chin. “He’s the lad’s sire, I take it? Yes … big and strong. Like a bear.” A gnarled hand traced Vasha’s rosy cheek and the child chuckled. The old woman’s smile was soft. “All of our children here … gone. My tall, handsome sons … my grandsons … all gone. Dead. This one …” She chucked Vasha’s button nose, “This one will do well. He will have more sons for the Motherland … he will live a long, happy life and give you many grandchildren.” And with that she turned and went back into her ruined house, leaving behind a mystified Rivka and a bunch of bewildered soldiers.

 

“Poor old cow,” said Nikitin finally. “Looks like her mind’s gone … addled, she is. Addled in the noggin. Still,” he added wistfully, “She reminds me of me old mum …”

 

Soon the convoy was pulling out of the village, away from the ruins and the home of the old woman, and headed ever westward on this bitterly cold day.

 

And sitting in a small pile outside the old woman’s door was a cheese, two loaves of bread, some tea, two tins of corned beef and a hunk of salt bacon. Sitting proudly on top was a small, red, rosy apple.

 

*******************

 

They camped that night in a grove of firs, the trucks circling around as a windbreak against the blasts of cold air whistling through the tall trees. They lit a fire in the centre and hauled a couple of fallen trunks over to act as seats, and within the hour tents had been raised and food was cooking on the stoves. Rivka melted some snow and boiled Vasha’s used diapers, leaving them hanging on a stick near the roaring fire to dry, and then she and Vasha sat with Nikolai and talked into the night. A bottle of vodka was passed around and Turgenev hauled out his harmonica, and for a little while the war was forgotten as the group of soldiers talked and sang snippets of song, the fire and food and small amount of alcohol driving back the chill for a little while, Vasha cooing with wonder at the shadows flickering against the trees from the fire. Nikolai’s suggestion that the apples be stewed and served with the rich, thick goat’s milk was much appreciated by all.

 

But Rivka’s head began to nod against Nikolai’s shoulder, weariness overtaking her despite her wish to stay awake and enjoy the company. Vasha was wanting his final feed for the evening, so she decided to retire to the bed in the truck and get some sleep.

 

Nikolai kissed her on the brow, and he smiled as he saw how tired she was.

 

“Get some rest, my lady, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

She looked up at him, a thought suddenly striking her.

 

“Where are you going to sleep, Niko? You could fit into the truck if we shifted some stuff over - ”

 

“Nah,” he replied, amused. “I’ll be happy enough in a tent, don’t you worry. You and Vasha will need the room, and I’m right next to the truck if you need me.”

 

“But - ”

 

“No ‘buts’, woman – I’ve spent most of my life in the army sleeping in tents, and a few more days isn’t going to kill me, so stop fussing! Get some sleep, both of you. We have a long day tomorrow.”

 

So Rivka reluctantly stood and headed off to her bed, Vasha carried on her hip. After feeding her son she curled up under a pile of blankets and listened to the soft murmur of the wind in the tree branches, and as she drifted into sleep she thought she could hear the gentle rumble of Nikolai’s voice as he laughed quietly in the deep of the night.

 

*******************

 

Rivka awoke to the sounds of early morning activity in the camp.

 

She had slept far better than she could have wished, and not once had she felt cold or uncomfortable, although her back was a little sore from the long drive the previous day. But, she reasoned, she would toughen up with time and she would not complain - the men in the convoy had enough to deal with.

 

Vasha still slept soundly beside her. He had not made a murmur all night, and Rivka guessed the fresh air and long day had a good deal to do with it, but she knew he would waken soon and demand his breakfast. So slipping on her warm boots and jacket, she pulled on her gloves and folded back the flap to peer outside.

 

Everything was white. Although the sun was only just rising, she could tell it had snowed heavily during the night, and the sight took her breath away. Each tree, each branch, was outlined in a rose-silver filigree, a delicate tracery of ice that glistened like diamonds in the pink glow of the rising sun. Rivka exhaled in a gusty sigh, almost moved to tears at the ethereal beauty of this small gathering of trees on a barren hillside.

 

Lowering herself out of the back of the truck she soon realised how cold it was when she discovered Vasha’s diapers frozen solid, like a board, even though the fire still glowed with warmth. Her breath crystallised in the air as jewelled droplets, and as she took a deep breath the chill air burned her lungs.

 

Nikolai was already up and dressed, his big frame encased in a greatcoat and a scarf around his neck to keep out the chill. The flaps of his ushanka were down and he wore a heavy pair of gloves which Rivka recognised as the pair she had knitted for him so long ago. He grinned as he spotted her, and wandered over to give her a kiss of greeting. Rivka was a little reticent about showing affection to Nikolai in front of his men but he didn’t seem to be concerned, and she smiled as she saw the soldiers already up and about grin and nudge each other at the obvious love of this big, rangy Colonel for his woman.

 

They were interrupted by a soft, wailing cry as Vasha awoke and was instantly bothered by his empty stomach.

 

“Niko, can you get him?” Rivka looked up into Nikolai’s blue eyes. “I, er … I have to … to … well, go, if you know what I mean. Is there a latrine, or something?”

 

Nikolai chuckled.

 

“No latrine. We’re only here overnight Rivka, and even if the ground wasn’t frozen solid and impossible to dig holes in, you’d still have to go behind a tree! Oh, and Rivka?” He continued, as Rivka turned to look for a suitable tree, “If I were you I’d take a blanket with you and wrap yourself up in it before you start – you don’t want to get a frost-bitten bum, now do you?”

 

By the time Rivka had attended to her needs and returned to the camp, Nikolai had removed Vasha from the truck and begun to feed him some tasty bread soaked in warmed goat’s milk and a little salt, the vitamin-rich sop warming the boy’s belly. Vasha was solemnly eating his breakfast as Nikitin and Lubov sat regarding the child. Both men took their duties as ‘uncles’ very seriously indeed, and the appetite of their small ‘nephew’ was of the utmost importance. By the time Vasha had finished his milk and bread, the camp was alive with activity. The fuel truck was distributing jerry-cans of diesel and each truck shuddered then roared into life, fumes belching from exhausts and tainting the air with the heavy smell of fuel. Someone draped the frozen diapers over the hood of a truck where the heat of the engine soon thawed them out and dried the soft muslin quickly and thoroughly, much to Rivka’s relief. The fact that each diaper had a couple of greasy thumb-marks on them didn’t bother her in the least – a bit of dirt wouldn’t do any harm.

 

Tents were collapsed and stowed, food and stoves were packed away and the fire finally extinguished, and by the time the sun had risen completely above the horizon the convoy was driving slowly but purposefully down the road towards the distant city of Kiev.

 

***************

 

The next few days passed very much like the first with the constant rumbling of heavy diesel engines, rutted roads and the numbing, bitter cold.

 

Rivka discovered that although the discomforts were many they were not insurmountable. She slept in her clothes, as did Nikolai, and for the first time began to realise how hard it was to be a soldier in Stalin’s army. She could only imagine how it had been for Nikolai, sleeping in ditches and spending every minute of every day wondering if he was going to get his head blown off. The thought of him fighting a battle under these conditions made her stomach churn. No wonder he was ill, she thought.

 

Vasha however, thrived. He never seemed to feel the cold, he was entertained by the group of soldiers who patently doted upon him, and there was food to fill his belly. He slept next to the comfortable body of his mother at night, and his papa gave him his breakfast every morning. Nothing seemed to bother him, much to Nikolai’s relief.

 

Nikolai took the responsibility for the convoy easily in his stride, and was firm but fair with his men. He led them unerringly through the messy roads and over bridges, and his confident handling of both men and machines impressed Rivka beyond belief. He could be hard on them at times, but these jaded and tired soldiers began to perk up, the respect they had for this tall, tough Colonel increasing with every day that passed.

 

They had hoped to be in Kiev around Christmas Day, approximately ten days after setting off, but it soon became obvious that it would probably be after New Year before they reach the city, mainly because of the state of the roads. They reached Kharkov on Christmas Eve, and decided to stay the night in proper billets for once. Rivka was glad of the break, washing underwear and – luxury of luxuries – having a hot bath. That night she and Nikolai slept in a proper bed in a bombed-out hotel, Vasha nestled between them and the rest of the men of the convoy billeted in other rooms. It was a welcome respite from the terrible roads. The next morning they went to the refuelling depot to replenish their supplies, as the next stretch meant heading for the Dnepr River itself and following its course north.

 

From then on, the roads deteriorated even more. Most of them were seasonal roads, some little more than tracks, and the convoy headed slowly for the town of Poltava. Beyond Poltava, a day’s journey would lead them to the banks of the great Dnepr River, now frozen solid in this deadly cold winter.

 

But there was another worry apart from the bad roads and the atrocious weather. Nikolai began to cough. Rivka fretted and nagged, offering to switch beds so he could sleep in the truck, but he would have none of it. He shrugged off any concern for him, smiling and saying it was nothing but the cold air irritating his lungs. Nevertheless, he was frequently exhausted by the end of the day and retired to his camp-bed as soon as he was able.

 

They passed through Poltava on New Year’s Day.

 

Although Rivka thought herself inured to the ravages of war, she was appalled to see how the town and its environs had suffered. The scars of terrible battle were still fresh here, and the people that remained were stark, stumbling shadows of human beings. Again, there were no men, only women and a few children and old people.

 

That night they camped beside a small frozen river. The men were tired but relaxed, knowing the end of the journey was in sight and they sat and talked by the light of the fire. Nikolai had slept in the jeep for most of the day, refusing Rivka’s pleas to ride in Lubov’s truck where he would be warmer. “Nah, I’m fine. Just tired is all,” had been his answer, and Rivka had to admit the rest seemed to have done him good. But still, there was a feverish brightness to his eyes, and she frowned when he decided to go to bed early.

 

“Vasha and I will come sit with you for a while … would you like that?” she said softly.

 

Nikolai gave her his glittering grin and shook his head.

 

“Rivka, my lady, stop fretting! I’m perfectly all right – a good night’s sleep is all I need, and you’ll get cold sitting with me.” He bent down and kissed her. “I’ll see you in the morning, all right? Stop worrying, woman!”

 

But when she finally went to bed and lay feeding Vasha, she heard a soft, dry cough coming from his tent next to the truck.

 

Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow I’m going to tear a strip off the big klotz and he’s going to ride in that truck if it kills me!

 

And muttering quietly to herself she turned her attention to her hungry son.

 

***************

 

“Missus …”

 

Rivka blinked awake at the sound of the whispered word. She frowned. What on earth …

 

“Missus! It’s Boris!”

 

Rivka rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up. She lifted the tail flap of the truck and peered out into inky darkness lit only by a torch held in the hand of Boris Turgenev, the harmonica-playing mechanic, who stood looking up at her in the darkness.

 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked blearily. She kept her voice low as Vasha was sound asleep.

 

Turgenev gestured at Nikolai’s tent with his chin.

 

“It’s the Colonel. I don’t think he’s very well.”

 

Rivka’s eyes widened.

 

“Oh God no …”

 

Scrambling into her boots and coat she dropped out of the back of the truck and hurried into Nikolai’s tent to find Nikitin crouched down beside Nikolai’s camp bed. The big soldier was curled on his side, teeth chattering with cold and his face flushed with fever. Nikitin looked at Rivka, worry rife on his rat-like features.

 

“Came to get him for his turn at watch and found him like this.”

 

Nikolai had insisted he took his turn at night-watches, despite being entitled not to do so because of his rank. The men appreciated it, and that was all that mattered to Nikolai.

 

Rivka reached out and felt Nikolai’s brow – he was burning up. Her lips set grimly, and she turned to Nikitin.

 

“We need to move him into the truck where he’ll be warmer …” She thought for a moment. “Ivan, could you see about shifting some of the boxes out so we have a bit more room?” Seeing Nikitin’s nod, she turned back to her sick husband. “Dammit, Nikolai …Oleg warned you what might happen …”

 

The typhus was back. In a milder form, she knew, and not life-threatening, but still debilitating. She sat with him, holding his hand as she waited for Nikitin and Turgenev to shift equipment in the truck to make room for both Nikolai and herself, and was very grateful when Lubov arrived, woken by the sound of whispered words, to take charge of a sound-asleep Vasha.

 

Nikolai was soon ensconced in the truck, gently lifted by his men and cared for by his wife. As Nikitin helped Rivka ease off Nikolai’s jacket and boots, the big soldier turned fevered blue eyes to the little corporal.

 

“Y … you’re in command … head to the river … got … got to cross …”

 

Nikitin grinned, relieved that the big man was lucid.

 

“Nah. We’re staying put for a day or two, comrade. You need to rest up, and headquarters knows we’re being delayed by bad weather, so what’s the rush?”

 

Nikolai grimaced as Rivka helped him lie back on the pillows.

 

“Just … just get going, you little arse …” he growled.

 

“Oh, can’t do that, comrade Colonel – y’see, for some unknown reason every single one of the truck engines seems to be faltering. Must be the spark plugs. We’ll have to spend a day or two checking them out, don’t you think?? Can’t have ‘em breaking down on us, now can we?”

 

Nikolai was shivering with chills, but he managed to glare at Nikitin with malice.

 

“Nikitin, you shit … d …diesel engines don’t … don’t have spark plugs …”

 

The corporal seemed astounded.

 

“So they don’t!! Well I never! Can’t be that then … must be summat else. Burnt out cylinders, maybe … that could take quite a few days to fix, don’t you think?”

 

Nikolai, fuming but knowing he was beaten for now, relaxed back into his wife’s care while Nikitin pulled the flaps of his ushanka down about his ears. He turned to Rivka who was covering her husband in warm blankets.

 

“Don’t worry about the little ‘un, Missus – he’s still sound asleep and Lubov’s going to kip in the truck cab with him. Nice and warm in there, so it is. We’ll come get you when he needs his breakfast. We’ll stay here for a day or so and see how the Colonel is, so there’s nothing to fret about, all right? And I wasn’t kidding about the trucks – there are one or two things we can be fixing so it’ll give us a bit of a breather.”

 

Rivka smiled her thanks as the grubby little soldier dropped down from the back of the truck and pulled down the flap, then she turned to her unhappy, miserably sick husband.

 

“Nikolai Koulikov, if you weren’t so sick I’d kick your toches all the way to Moscow, you know that don’t you? Why didn’t you tell me you felt so awful?” She sighed in exasperation, and decided to go and get some water and a cloth so she could sponge him down and reduce his temperature.

 

Nikolai cocked an eyebrow at his furious wife.

 

“Now … now then Rivka … I’ll be fine … just … just thought I could … work … work through it … stop worrying, woman …”

 

Rivka allowed herself to be mollified a little.

 

“Yes … well … you’re a dolt and that’s no mistake.” She leaned forward and kissed his nose, hearing a small sound of pleasure from him as he began to warm up a little. “Be still, love … I’ll be back in a moment and you’ll feel more comfortable soon. Then you can get some sleep, all right?”

 

“Mm-hmm …” Nikolai was already drowsy with warmth. “You tell that bugger Nikitin … tell him … to get over the river …” His voice faded as he began to doze.

 

Rivka smoothed back a short curl on his forehead and sat for a moment, studying him. Silly big fool, she thought. Still, he’ll recover easily enough, poor love. He just let himself get chilled … and whatever’s been bothering him lately hasn’t helped, I’ll warrant.

 

Sighing, she gathered up a small bowl and went to fetch water.

 

 

**************** 

 Nikolai’s fever broke by mid-day the next day. Rivka was exhausted. She had sat with him all night, holding him when the fever spiked and the nightmares took him, but this time his body was strong and fought back quickly and surely. Afterwards he slept for a while, then awoke to the sounds of banging hammers and revving engines. He felt washed-out and weak, but hungry. Rivka just grinned at him tiredly and fetched him a bowl of soup, which he managed to sit up and eat.

 

By the time the sun was going down he felt well enough to venture outside for a little while, fretting to see how his men were coping. As he shakily eased himself down from the back of the truck he was slightly non-plussed to discover that everything was well in hand and running very smoothly indeed.

 

Nikitin helped him over to the fire which sent out welcoming heat and seated the big soldier on an oil drum, handing him a mug of tea. Sitting down beside him on one of the boxes they had removed from the truck to make room for Nikolai, Nikitin sipped his own tea and filled his Colonel in on what had been happening.

 

“The Missus … is she all right? She looked bloody tired this morning.” Nikitin’s breath misted in the cold air.

 

Nikolai nodded.

 

“She’s sleeping, and so’s Vasha. She overdid it a bit. So … why the hell aren’t we heading out to the river today, and why did you disobey an order?” He looked enquiringly at the little mechanic.

 

"You were sick. You’d’ve been sicker if we’d moved you. Anyway, we had to shift a load of stuff out of the truck to let you get some proper rest so … we just had to bloody well wait, didn’t we? And on top of that, some of the trucks needed one or two things fixing so that’s what we did. We fixed ‘em. Turgenev set up an O.P. on the top of the hill so we could get radio contact, and we just dug in. And I didn’t disobey orders, comrade Colonel Koulikov, sir, you were out of your head … raving, so to speak … so I used my whatsisname … my initiative."

 

Nikolai squinted up the incline to the top of the hill, but couldn’t see any sign of the radio antenna. Turgenev had done his job well and camouflaged the little radio post. The stocky Georgian was a handy man to have on your side, Nikolai had to admit. He grimaced at Nikitin.

 

“If you don’t watch yourself, you ignorant little sod, you’ll end up a Sergeant, you know that don’t you?”

 

Nikitin nearly choked on his tea.

 

“Bloody hell, sir, don’t threaten me like that! Sergeant?? Me?? God help me, no!! I like it just the way it is – enough clout to be a pain in the arsehole to those lazy buggers in the motor pool, but not enough to take responsibility for anything that matters. Just perfect, in my honest opinion!” Nikitin shuddered.

 

Nikolai gave him a sly grin.

 

“Honest? You don’t know the meaning of the word, you sod.” He became quiet for a moment. “You did a good job, Ivan. And thanks for looking after the Missus and Vasha. You did a good job there, too.”

 

Corporal Ivan Grigorvich Nikitin grinned cheekily as he and his Colonel sat quietly and watched the goings-on in the little makeshift camp.

 

**************** 

The next day was warmer and the little bit of heat caused more problems. Instead of slippy, ice-hard surfaces, the roads turned swiftly into a quagmire of slush and deep mud.

 

They reached the banks of the great Dnepr River just as the sun was going down, and the convoy stopped to look at the vista before them. The river was frozen solid from bank to bank, and they could see in the distance a group of Russian trucks gathered beside a small check-point on the frozen bank.

 

Nikolai had slept in the back of the truck for most of the day, while Rivka sat with Vasha on her knee next to Lubov in the cab. Now he was sitting in the jeep with Nikitin leading the convoy slowly along the bank as the temperature dropped once more below freezing – tomorrow was going to be a bugger as the slush froze hard, the road becoming downright treacherous.

 

At the checkpoint they were halted by a cold-looking Sergeant slapping his arms around his chest trying to keep warm. He was watching the other small convoy which was now heading away from the crossing and turning north east to Kursk, but stiffened to attention when he saw the insignia on Nikolai’s collar.

 

“Comrade Colonel, sir!”

 

Nikolai saluted in return and eased himself wearily out of the jeep. His head ached and his bones were sore in this cold, and he knew he was still sick. But now wasn’t the time for self-pity.

 

“We need to cross the river, Sergeant – we have to be in Kiev as soon as possible, so can we cross tonight?”

 

The sergeant looked at this brawny officer with the metal teeth and piercing blue eyes and thought he looked familiar.

 

“I’d stay this side just for tonight, comrade Colonel. Those fellows,” he gestured at the convoy of trucks heading into the gloom, “they said there was a wee bit of Fritz activity on the other side. Not much to be worried about, but it’s not a good idea to camp out over there for the night. I’d bivvy here if I were you and cross in the morning.”

 

Nikolai nodded. That made sense, and it would be easier to follow the markers on the ice in daylight. Nodding his agreement to the chilled soldier, he turned back to his own convoy and went to tell them of his decision.

 

****************

 

The trip across the iced-up Dnepr River frightened the wits out of Rivka Koulikova. It took the convoy an hour to cross once the sun had come up, and they followed the two-metre high poles on the ice showing them the safest way across. But even so, Rivka could see the milky-blue hint of the water flowing under the ice beneath their tires and she was convinced the ice was going to shatter at any moment and the trucks, soldiers, Nikolai, Vasha and all, were going to disappear into a watery, freezing grave.

 

But soon the trucks were battling their way up the opposite bank and onto dry - if slippery - land, much to Rivka’s profound relief. The road on this side was in better condition, and the convoy began to make better time as they turned north and travelled inland slightly away from the river itself.

 

Rivka joined Nikolai in the jeep, Vasha on her lap, and once more relaxed back and watched the world go by. She glanced at Nikolai every now and again, still concerned for him, knowing he would probably take a little while to completely recover from the mild bout of fever, but otherwise he seemed well enough.

 

She began to doze as Vasha slept in her arms. She had not slept much these past two days as she nursed Nikolai through the night and taken care of Vasha into the bargain. Resting her head on the back of the seat she closed her eyes and thought of how kind the rough soldiers in this little convoy had been. They had kept Vasha amused and fed him his soup or bread and milk, and she had even caught Lubov and Nikitin changing the lad’s diaper, Nikitin slapping Lubov gently on the back of the head when the ill-fitting diaper had slid down Vasha’s fat little legs when Lubov lifted him. She was just dropping off to sleep, lulled by the movement of the vehicle, when she heard a soft growl of warning from Nikolai.

 

“What the – oh shit!!”

 

The jeep jerked to a halt and Rivka nearly fell as she impacted with the seat in front. Vasha woke up with a yelp and instantly began to cry.

 

“Rivka!! Get out! Get out now!!”

 

Nikolai’s voice was harsh with urgency, and as Rivka untangled Vasha and herself from their tumbled fall she heard a sharp whistle. She was confused now. What on earth was going on??? But she had no time to think about it as Nikolai jumped out of the passenger seat of the jeep, and flipping it forward reached in and took a now hysterical Vasha from Rivka’s arms. The whistling was getting louder. Rivka scrambled as best she could out of the jeep, banging her arm on the edge of the door, and as she stumbled out onto the slushy road she caught a glimpse of the rear of their little column of vehicles.

 

It was at that moment the whistling stopped.

 

The armoured car was blown into the air by an explosion so powerful that the vehicle disintegrated in mid-air. The noise was deafening as chunks of metal and other bits that Rivka realised with horror were human remains showered the rear of the convoy. What was left of the armoured car crunched back down onto the road in flames, the screech of torn metal filling the air.

 

The column stopped dead. Soldiers burst from vehicles, rifles at the ready as another explosion took out the last truck in the convoy, this time sending bits of electrical equipment and their only radio unit sky high.  It also blew Boris Turgenev into oblivion.

 

But Rivka didn’t have time to stop and gawp as Nikolai shoved Vasha into her arms and pushed her towards the wooded area at the side of the road.

 

“Go!” he said, lifting his rifle and pocketing half a dozen clips of ammunition. When she hesitated for a second, bewildered, he lost his temper. “For God’s sake Rivka, wake up and get the hell away from me!! Into the woods, woman, and be quick about it!”

 

Rivka ran. She heard the burst of rifle fire behind her as she ran, and when she gained the cover of the trees she gathered a screaming Vasha to her chest and turned around to see if Nikolai was following. But he wasn’t. He was busy running alongside the trucks and gathering up soldiers as he went. More were firing at something in the trees opposite and Rivka strained to see what they were firing at.

 

She gasped in terror.

 

It was a tank. A Panzer tank, and as she watched, the turret with its long, menacing barrel and its 88mm armour-piercing shell swung around as the Panzer trundled on through the trees. The wide combat tracks drove easily over vegetation and mud alike, and Rivka was appalled at how fast it moved, and she was even more appalled as she realised where the tank was aiming.

 

“Nikolai!!”

 

She screamed out a warning and for a moment she was sure he had heard her over the noise, but she was too late as the Panzer took aim and fired.

 

**********************