Nowhere to Run

Orepichi, Byelorussia
(Source)

Efréĭtor Ustin Rodionovich Kazankov awoke with a start. He had been dreaming that he was talking with Rahula. But Rahula was dead, very dead. The Rahula he had been talking to had a neat hole just above his left eye, where a German bullet had entered his skull. When he awakened he remembered, the hole in the Byelorussian soldier's head had been anything but neat.

"Comrade Corporal, are you all right?" Krasnoarmeyets Nazar Danylovych Petrenko whispered from nearby, he had heard the corporal groan in his sleep.

Kazankov answered abruptly, "I'm fine, go back to sleep."

Kazankov decided that it was pointless to try and go back to sleep, ever since the encounter with the Germans two days ago, he had been restless. He had seen men die before, many times in the Winter War, but never right next to him.

He noticed that he could see more clearly, it was getting close to dawn. He nudged Petrenko with his boot then said, rather gruffly, "Get up Petrenko, we need to be moving soon. Before the Fascists wake up."

Leutnant Wunsche had a splitting headache and his tongue was swollen from biting it. He could barely make himself understood. The Sanitäter, Obergefreiter Axel Bodmer, was examining him. Finally he shook his head.

"Herr Leutnant, you need to go to the rear for now, see the battalion surgeon. I think you have a concussion and your tongue needs stitches." Bodmer looked to the platoon sergeant for support.

Feldwebel Neumann nodded, "He's right Sir, you can't lead if you can't talk and if your head is splitting in two. Go back for a couple of days, we'll be fine."

Wunsche held his helmet up, he was wearing his soft cap for the moment. He could see daylight through his helmet. Finally he sighed and nodded. He spoke but no one understood him.

The Sani filled out a wound tag and affixed it to the lieutenant's tunic. "Good enough for a Verwundetenabzeichen, Herr Leutnant¹. Now off you go."

As the lieutenant headed dejectedly to the rear, Neumann saw the platoon's squad leaders coming in. For now the 9th Company's 3rd Platoon was in reserve, the other companies were trying to locate the Russians they had fought with two days ago. The 9th had inflicted casualties on the Russians, at least thirteen bodies had been found so far.

Unteroffizier Thorben Strobl, 1st Squad, Unterfeldwebel Jost Erdmann, 2nd Squad, Stabsgefreiter Jörg Holweck, 3rd Squad, and

Unterfeldwebel Karl-Heinz Scheffler, 4th Squad, were now standing nearby and waiting for Neumann to finish speaking with the Sani.

3rd Platoon had taken a number of casualties, five dead, five wounded, one badly, not counting the lieutenant. Which was the main reason Hauptmann Bergdorf had the platoon in reserve.

"Thorben, your squad is at full strength, right?" Neumann asked.

"Jawohl. Arno Klein has a minor flesh wound, Sani says he's okay. But yes, ten men present and ready for duty."

"Jörg, your squad was hit hard, nicht wahr²?

Holweck looked down at his feet, then back up again. "Three dead, two wounded, Pfaff can stay, Sani sent Manfredi back to the surgeon, he might lose an arm."

Neumann looked at Erdmann, a cold and hard man, he'd been in the Reichswehr before Hitler came to power, then had joined the Brown Shirts. After the Röhm Putsch, he had thought it best to disappear into the Army again.

Erdmann spoke, "One dead, two wounded, both evacuated."

"Scheffler, you lost a man, right?"

"Ja, Schütze Niels Johner, hit during the advance, no one noticed, he bled to death during the firefight. Bodmer is wounded, he's back with the surgeon getting sewn up, should be back tomorrow."

"Right then, draw rations, ammunition, get some rest. We'll be moving in a few hours."

"Is that it Comrade Major? Is that Orepichi?" Kolobkov asked, his voice quiet. For there wasn't much left of the village. Most of the houses were burned down, there were still bodies in the streets.

"Come on, Vitaliy Afanasievich, we need to keep moving, get the men through the town and back into the forest across these fields. Looks like a road cuts through the field, probably crawling with Fascists."

As Telitsyn's reduced battalion moved through the ruins of Orepichi, the men grew very quiet. Telitsyn heard a number of the men praying openly to God when they passed the small church near the center of the village. It too had been burned down, and there, where the front door used to be, was the priest. Crucified by the Germans.

Telitsyn had been brought up a Believer, deep inside he still believed in God, in Heaven, and in Hell. Though he wore Communism like a costume, it only masked his true beliefs.

"The Fascists will burn in Hell for this, Vitaliy Afanasievich. As God is my witness, I hope to send many of them there personally."

"Comrade Major, I thought you were a good Communist?" Kolobkov asked in a semi-mocking tone.

"Only when the Party is watching, Vitaliy Afanasievich, I am a Russian first and foremost. My mother actually wanted me to be a priest."

Kolobkov nodded, "You surprise me Comrade Major, but in a good way."

The scout was concealed near the edge of the cornfield, watching as vehicle after vehicle passed by on the road. As it got darker, the dimmed headlights came on and the gaps between vehicles got shorter.

Iosif Petrovich Mironov waited until there was a gap in traffic, probably another convoy would be along soon. He darted across the road and slipped into another cornfield. Perhaps another 300 meters and there should be another forested area, this one much more extensive than the one they had left.

He heard noises ahead, where the forest began. He slipped closer, it was dark now so he moved with greater confidence. Then he saw a campfire, then another, and another.

"Blyat'³," he cursed under his breath. There, where he had hoped to find a path to safety for the battalion, was a German bivouac. Motorized infantry from the look of them.

He reported back to Majór Telitsyn shortly after two in the morning. "Comrade Major, the Fascists are there in force, right where you wanted to go."

"How many, Iosif Petrovich?" Telitsyn asked.

"A battalion, understrength, they look like motorized infantry. They have far too many trucks for a regular battalion."

"Might they be supply types? Rear area men?"

"No Sir, they look like infantry, good infantry. A bit beat up, but still alert, they have defensive positions set up and listening posts out in the fields."

"You weren't spotted?" Telitsyn said, with some alarm.

"No Sir, I'm sure of it."

"Chert voz'mi, chert voz'mi⁴!"

Kolobkov looked at the Major, "So we have nowhere to run?"

"Looks like we stay in the forest, hope the Germans don't find us, and think of another way to rejoin the Army." Telitsyn was furious, now they had to rethink everything.

The damned Fascists seemed to be everywhere!

¹ Wound badge, equivalent to the American Purple Heart.

² Isn't that right?

³ F**k (Russian)

⁴ Damn it, damn it! (Russian)