Tatiana and Alexander: A Novel(118)

There was no sound from the woods. "Hold your fire! And bring me Borov," he yelled.

A shot rang out. It narrowly missed Pasha. Alexander closed his eyes and thought, this is crazy. I'm not putting him in front of the firing squad before my own eyes. He called Pasha back, and sent for a corporal to shield Metanov next time he called out for his lieutenant. There was no more fire from the other side. Soon they heard a voice calling, "Commander Kolonchak?"

"Yes, Borov," said Pasha.

"What is the password?"

Pasha glanced at Alexander. "If they asked you, wouldyou know?"

"No."

"Would you guess?"

"Don't play games. This is for the lives of your men."

"No, it's for the lives of yours."

"Give him the password, Pasha."

"The Queen of Lake Ilmen," yelled Pasha Metanov, waving a white handkerchief.

After a pained silence, Alexander said, "Well, I'm sure your sister would appreciate her name being summoned in the heat of battle."

Borov walked forward from behind the gray trees not thirty meters away--that's all that separated the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

two enemy battalions. In one hour this would have turned into hand-to-hand combat. Alexander had been in the woods too many times, up on hills, in the mud, in the marsh, shooting at phantoms, at shadows, at branches falling. He bowed his head. He was glad that at least for now the fighting would be over. He heard Pasha speaking to Borov, who was disbelieving and reluctant. "Permission not to surrender, sir."

"Permission denied," said Pasha. "You see a way out?"

"Die with honor," said Borov.

Alexander stepped forward. "Tell your men to lay down their arms and come forward."

"Captain!" Pasha cut in. "I'll handle this." He turned to Borov. "And the Germans are to be taken prisoner."

Borov laughed. "We're surrenderingthem ? They're going to love this."

"They will do as they're forced to."

"What about the rest of us?"

"We're going to fight for the Red Army."

Borov stepped back with a look of disbelief on his face. "Captain, what's happening? This is impossible."

"What's happening, Borov, is that I've been taken prisoner. And so you have no choice. This is for my life."

Borov bowed his own head, as if he truly had no choice.

A little while later Pasha explained, "Borov will always be loyal to me. He is to me what Ouspensky is to you."

"Ouspensky is nothing to me," said Alexander.

"Ah, you're joking." Pasha paused. They were walking back to the Soviet camp, their men in front of them, the ten Germans with their hands tied. "Alexander, do you trust him?"

"Who?"

"Ouspensky."

"Inasmuch as I trust anyone."

"What does that mean?"

"What are you getting at?"

Pasha coughed. "Do you trust him with personal things?" Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"I trust no one with personal things," Alexander said, looking straight ahead.

"That's good." Pasha paused. "I don't know if he can be trusted."

"Oh, he's proven his loyalty to me over the years. He can be trusted. Nonetheless, I don't."

"That's good," said Pasha.

Alexander was right about many things. Soviet reinforcements did not come. And there were no Red Army Imperial uniforms for Pasha and his Russian soldiers. Though he had lost many more than forty-two men himself, he buried his dead in their wet and bloodied resplendent velvet garb. Now he had forty-two men in German uniforms with German haircuts. Alexander ordered them shaved, but they were still in German uniforms.

Pasha was right about many things. German reinforcements moved to the foot of the mountain looking for their Russian battalion, expecting to find Pasha's men and instead found Alexander's battalion and not a Vlasovite in sight. Though their shells and grenades were more plentiful than Alexander's, Alexander had the advantage, for the first time in his military career, of being at the top of the hill. The German artillery unit was repelled, with difficulty, then an infantry unit was repelled with ease, and his men moved down the mountain, having lost only five soldiers. Alexander said he would never fight again unless it was from a great height.

Pasha said maybe the first time the Germans had sent in a handful of troops to block Alexander, but next time they would send a thousand, and the time after that ten thousand.

Pasha was right about many things.

On the other side of the Holy Cross mountains was more forest and more fighting, and another day brought a heavier artillery, heavier machine-gun fire, more grenades, more shells, less rain, more fire.

Alexander's battalion was again reduced by five. The next day brought more Germans, and the battalion became three squads. No bandages, no sulfa helped. His men had no time to construct defenses, pillboxes, trenches. The trees covered them but the trees were felled by mortar fire, by grenades, by shells, and his men were, too. Nothing could sew back their severed limbs.

After four days, two squads remained. Twenty men. Alexander, Pasha, Ouspensky, Borov and sixteen foot soldiers.