Daughters of the Resistance

by Lana Kortchik

  ‘Prove it. Tell me something I don’t know. I’m fascinated with Napoleon’s marshals. Those men were legends. Do you know anything about them?’

  ‘Let’s see. There was Joachim Murat, married to Napoleon’s sister. Napoleon made him king. Murat was his best friend and right-hand man but unfortunately, he betrayed him and turned his back on him. He was hungry for power and was executed by his former subjects.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Then there was Michel Ney. His nickname was “the bravest of the brave”.’

  ‘The bravest of the brave. I like the sound of that.’

  ‘I thought you might. He changed sides a couple of times but in the end was loyal to Napoleon. He was executed by the royalists. Then there was Alexandre Berthier, Napoleon’s Chief of Staff, who mysteriously fell to his death out of a window. Some people believe the royalists killed him to stop him from joining Napoleon at Waterloo.’

  ‘Is it all gloom and doom? How about something with a happy ending?’

  ‘There was Jean Soult, who amassed a huge fortune and died at his castle at the age of eighty-two.’

  ‘See, I didn’t know any of it. Tell me more. I don’t care if it’s real or made-up.’

  ‘With the lives these people lived, there’s no need to make anything up. The reality is so much more fascinating than fiction could ever be. My grandfather calls them giants. And he’s right.’

  Lisa thought of something interesting to tell Maxim. Would he appreciate the story of Napoleon and Josephine: the romance, the betrayal and the ultimate forgiveness but no happily ever after? Or the miracle of the 18th of Brumaire? And what about the adventure of the first Italian campaign and the heartbreak of the withdrawal from Moscow? Or the unprecedented and astonishing return from Elba that had all of Europe stunned into disbelief? As they waited for the Nazi convoy in the quietened woods, with the birds chirping peacefully as if there was no war, Lisa told Maxim of marshals and generals, of wars and campaigns, of heroes and traitors. Little by little, she brought to life men long dead but not forgotten, and weaved unbelievable stories so he would find her interesting, so he would like her more.

  Finally, her efforts were rewarded when he said, ‘I enjoy talking to you. It sure makes the time pass quicker.’ She wished she could see his face but it was obscured by the branches between them. She could swear he was smiling. She looked at herself through his eyes and liked what she saw. She was witty, funny and smart. To have a man like Maxim, an experienced partisan, respected by everyone he knew, hang on her every word made her feel important. She didn’t want their conversation to end.

  As she was about to tell him she enjoyed talking to him too, she felt the branches tremble. A second later, Maxim spoke and his voice sounded different, more tense. The banter of only moments ago was gone. ‘This is it. Get ready.’

  Lisa’s heart sank all the way to her feet. ‘I don’t see anything,’ she muttered. And then she noticed movement in the far distance. A few dark specks appeared on the road and soon turned into cars. She wanted to delay them, wanted to pause time, so that she could prolong this special moment between the two of them. But there was no delaying the inevitable. When they approached, she saw that the convoy consisted of a black Mercedes and a dozen trucks.

  Lisa reached for her rifle – reached for her rifle in readiness to shoot a human being. She couldn’t believe it. Was this real or was it a terrible nightmare from which she would soon awaken?

  She heard his voice. ‘Just like I taught you. Sight your target and calmly press the trigger. There is no time for emotion.’

  Lisa watched the enemy procession through her binoculars. At the back of the first truck was a group of Nazi officers, talking excitedly, pointing at the woods in front of them. Their faces were animated and alive, their arms moving. Lisa took aim at one of them, a tall broad-shouldered man with a moustache and a cigarette, and waited for Maxim’s signal. ‘Now,’ he shouted, and as the sound of gunshots blasted around her, she pressed the trigger. Even though her hands were trembling, the officer fell like a broken doll, limbs flailing. His face was no longer animated or alive. He remained motionless on the floor of the truck, while the Germans raised the alarm and reached for their weapons.

  ‘That’s my girl,’ said Maxim. Lisa breathed heavily, the rifle limp in her hands, refusing to believe what had just happened. She had killed a man. One moment there was life, the next it was gone, extinguished like a candle, and she was responsible.

  In her stupefied state she could feel the leaves moving around her. At first she thought it was the breeze but then she realised it was bullets and squeezed her eyes shut in fear. They were so close, she could feel them swarm around her like angry bees. This was it; she knew it. The next bullet was going to hit her. ‘Get down,’ shouted Maxim, his voice muted by the artillery. She bent down as low as she could to the branch.

  The vehicles came to a halt. The Mercedes rolled off the road, hitting a tree trunk. One of the trucks had a flat tyre. The soldiers opened random fire at the woods but couldn’t see where the partisans were hiding. Soon they were all cut down by the return fire from the trees. In a few minutes it was over.

  ‘That’s it. All clear. We can get back now,’ said Maxim, pressing her hand.

  Dazed, Lisa climbed down to the ground.

  *

  The trip back to the settlement was a joyous affair. It was nothing like their quiet journey in the morning. The men were talking, singing and slapping each other on the backs. Before they set out, Maxim gathered everyone together. ‘I am happy to report that not only have we achieved our objective, but we have also done so with zero losses, while the enemy was completely wiped out. We were able to do this because of our diligence and detailed planning. Well done, my brave brothers and sister. I am proud of every one of you.’

  Lisa felt like Maxim was talking directly to her. Her first mission was a success. Why did it feel like something tremendous and terrible had happened to her, something she would never recover from? Her heart overflowing with feeling, she watched Maxim as they walked. His face was covered in grime and there were circles under his eyes but he carried himself tall and proud, and when he noticed her looking at him, he smiled. A knowing smile, as if they shared a secret. As if between them was a special knowledge, a bond forged in battle. They had one common goal, one true desire – to see their motherland and Kiev free. And that goal brought them closer.

  But as they followed Bear back to the settlement, accompanied by triumphant war songs and the playful clang of Alex’s balalaika, Lisa couldn’t get the German officer’s face out of her mind.

  *

  The other groups had similar success. Triumphantly they had achieved their mission with zero losses and the battalion was celebrating. Maxim’s guitar hummed late into the night, while Lisa sat alone at the nearby table, her adoring eyes on him.

  Alex, whose eyes were on Lisa, sidled up to her, opened his bag and tipped the contents onto the table. ‘Look what I found in the Germans’ rucksacks. Jewellery, silver cutlery, even paintings. Would you like a brooch? A pair of golden earrings?’

  ‘What were you doing, going through their things?’ asked Lisa with barely disguised contempt.

  ‘Someone had to. They stole all this from our people. While the officers rob our museums and art galleries, remove truckloads of wine, fruit, leather, wool and cattle, the soldiers take people’s personal belongings.’

  ‘And of course, being the righteous person that you are, you will return all these items to their rightful owners.’ Glaring at him with disdain, she picked up her cup of tea and moved to another table. Dumbfounded, Alex watched her for a moment, then proceeded to collect his loot and put it back in his bag, muttering under his breath.

  The next morning, Yulya greeted her with a smile on her face. And here was Lisa, thinking the woman was incapable of smiling. The porridge was already on the stove and even the potatoes had been peeled. Stirring with one hand and wiping the table with another,
Yulya said, ‘I hear there’s a new sniper in our midst. Congratulations! I was wrong about you. You are not just a pretty face who can’t cook.’

  ‘Thank you,’ muttered Lisa, not meeting Yulya’s gaze.

  ‘Just my luck. I’ll have to find a new assistant.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I trained you, only for you to leave the kitchen and join the partisans.’ But she didn’t sound displeased.

  ‘Who said anything about leaving the kitchen?’ Lisa took the rag from Yulya, turning away from her to the tables that needed cleaning. Her head was heavy after a sleepless night. Her eyes felt raw, as if there was sand in them. For the first time since she had arrived, she didn’t think with horror about the day ahead. To her surprise, she was looking forward to losing herself in the work. The stove that pumped heat and burnt her face, the blunt knife that cut her fingers, the mountain of plates that needed to be loaded with food and carried to the waiting partisans no longer filled her with dread. There was no death inside the kitchen, no lifeless eyes staring through her, no lifeless mouths open in silent screams.

  As the morning wore on, Lisa wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, or if the other partisans were treating her differently. It was as if she was no longer invisible. Even Danilo grunted a short greeting when she walked into the cafeteria, carrying a samovar with boiling water. Everyone seemed to know she had shot an officer and they treated her like a hero, when she felt like the most despicable human being that had ever lived. There was something unfair about this war that made taking someone’s life not only acceptable but commendable.

  She was on her knees scrubbing the floor when Masha walked into the kitchen. Lisa found herself staring at her friend’s shoes.

  ‘All hail the hero!’ exclaimed Masha. Lisa didn’t look up from the bucket of murky water. She was contemplating getting up and going outside to change it but the effort required was too much. Masha nudged her and added, ‘I’m so proud of you. Everyone here is talking about you. How brave you were, how cool under pressure.’

  ‘Cool? I killed someone, Masha. Do you understand what that means?’

  ‘He was one of them. You told me so yourself, remember?’

  ‘And you told me it didn’t make them any less human.’

  ‘No one invited them here. We are merely defending ourselves …’

  ‘Masha, I’m sorry. I can’t talk right now. I have a million things to do. I’ll see you later.’ To her horror, Lisa felt tears streaming down her face.

  ‘Are you all right? I’ve never seen you this upset. I thought you would be happy. I came to congratulate you.’

  ‘I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it.’

  Lisa rose to her feet and walked away, without a glance at the dirty rag, the bucket of water or Masha, who was watching her with shock.

  She suspected that, for as long as she lived, she wouldn’t forget the German officer’s stare after she had shot him. He would haunt her forever, no matter where she was. It had taken a fraction of a second. One moment, he was alive, laughing, thinking, hoping for something. The next, he was gone. Life was fragile, in times of war especially so, and Lisa wanted desperately to see her family again, to make sure they were safe, to put her arms around them and hear their voices. None of the disagreements they had had in the past seemed to matter anymore.

  Lisa didn’t want to be alone because the ghosts inside her head scared her. But if she heard one more word of congratulations, she would scream. What she needed was to keep busy. Earlier she had noticed they were running low on oats and potatoes. On the way out of the cafeteria, she grabbed a bag and a large key hidden behind a loose wooden board. She was going to walk to the storage place where they kept their food supplies and get some more. The walk would do her good. The brisk spring air would clear her head; the sun on her skin would remind her that she was still alive, that she was breathing and feeling, even though she had taken someone’s life, even though she had become a murderess.

  ‘Need help?’

  The voice made her jump. She looked up from the footpath to see Matvei blocking her way. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Just going to get some food from the cellar.’

  ‘Why don’t I come with you? Then you won’t have to carry it all by yourself.’

  ‘They let you walk around the battalion by yourself?’ wondered Lisa aloud.

  ‘People trust me now. They are grateful for what I’ve done.’

  Lisa shrugged and said she didn’t need any help. He followed her anyway. She opened her mouth to ask him to leave her alone but didn’t know how to say it without appearing rude. She had no energy for a confrontation, so she walked next to him in silence, while he never stopped talking. ‘In my heart I’ve always been loyal to my country. But we all do what we have to do to survive.’

  ‘No one else here has turned their back on their own people.’

  He glanced at her thoughtfully and cleared his throat. ‘Do you have any children?’

  She shook her head, walking deliberately fast, the empty bag swinging in her hand.

  ‘I have three,’ he continued. ‘The love we feel for our children is stronger than anything we will ever experience. It’s primal, instinctive. It will make you do anything, endure anything. If I joined the partisans, my family would pay for it, like so many others. Do you know what they did to the families of partisans in my village? They burnt them alive, in front of everyone, to make an example out of them. And then they burnt their houses. But because I helped the Germans, my children can live. They have food. They are safe. For that I would sacrifice everything I have, even my soul.’

  ‘And you did. You sacrificed your soul, sold it to the devil.’

  ‘Perhaps. But I don’t believe in all that. You know what I believe in? Providing for your children. Staying alive for your family.’

  ‘By whatever means possible?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Tell me, how do you sleep at night, knowing what you’ve done?’ Lisa had killed an enemy officer and couldn’t stop thinking about it. But Matvei betrayed his own people. How did he look at himself in the mirror and not flinch?

  ‘You think what I’ve done is treason. But the Germans think the opposite. They view what you do as treason. It’s a matter of perspective, you see. And while there is a Nazi regime in Ukraine, what they believe is all that matters. Who do you think will have a longer, happier life? Me, who sold my soul to the devil? Or anyone else here, who opposes the established order?’

  When they returned, Lisa thanked him for helping her carry the bags and disappeared quickly into the kitchen. She was glad to finally be alone with her thoughts, but a niggling feeling remained. After everything Matvei had said, she knew they couldn’t trust him. She had to warn Maxim.

  *

  Lisa found him at the headquarters, bent over maps and documents, a red marker pen in his hand. Bear was curled up under the table and didn’t raise his head when Lisa came in, only his tail twitching in acknowledgement.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, perching on the bench across from him.

  ‘Like Marshal Ney, I am planning our next campaign.’ Maxim smiled and his eyes twinkled. ‘What can I do for you?’

  Just seeing his face made her heart lighter. How did he do it? He didn’t even have to say a word and already she felt better. ‘I wanted to talk to you about Matvei.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘I know it’s thanks to him that yesterday’s operation was such a success. Everyone is treating him like one of us. But can we really trust him? You know what they say. Once a snake, always a snake.’

  ‘I don’t trust him, not a bit. At the same time, I know he’ll do anything to save his skin. He betrayed his people to the Nazis, and he’ll betray the Nazis to us. His knowledge of their operations is useful for us right now.’

  Having spoken to Matvei, having seen the determination on his face and not a trace of remorse, having heard his justification for what he’d done,
Lisa knew Maxim was right. ‘We have to be careful. He’ll betray us again just as easily.’

  ‘Don’t worry. His every step is being watched.’ He stood up, walked around the desk and sat next to her. If she reached out, she could touch his face. More than anything in the world she wanted to touch his breath-taking face. His unblinking eyes were on her. ‘Have I told you how proud I am of you? I have taught you well.’

  She couldn’t even smile in reply. ‘Do you remember your first time?’

  ‘The first time I killed someone? Like it was yesterday. I couldn’t sleep for a week afterwards.’

  ‘So it’s not just me?’

  ‘Trouble sleeping?’

  ‘Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. I can’t help but wonder if he had a wife and children. If his parents are waiting for him. What kind of a man he was.’ Lisa was so afraid she would burst into tears, she closed her eyes and counted to ten.

  ‘Just because it’s war, we don’t stop being human. And neither do they. They are people, just like us. Following orders, just like us. What you are feeling is completely normal.’

  ‘Everyone is talking about me like I’m some kind of a hero this morning. But I don’t feel like one. I took someone’s life. Because of me, he’ll never come home. His family will never see him again. His children will grow up without a father. I feel like …’ she searched for the right word ‘… a monster.’

  ‘If you’re a monster, what does that make me? You can’t think like that or you will drive yourself crazy. For better or worse, we are soldiers. This is what we do. It wasn’t our choice to have our country invaded. All we are doing is standing up to defend it. And he was a soldier too. He knew what he was in for. He was prepared to take lives and he did. And he was prepared to die for his beliefs.’

  ‘Are you saying he deserved this?’

  ‘No one deserves this. But it is what it is. Don’t think of his family. Think of yours. Think of what this war is doing to those close to you. All because the Germans chose to come here.’