Four Soldiers

by Hubert Mingarelli

  Sergeant Ermakov put the papers back in his pocket and the forest ranger tied up the bundle of leeks with a piece of string. After that he went back into the house and he came back out with a sack of potatoes.

  12

  THE SECOND HOUSE was unoccupied. I suggested we go in anyway to take a look around, but Sergeant Ermakov didn’t want to. Kyabine carried the bundle of leeks over his shoulder. He smiled every time he looked at Sergeant Ermakov, and you could tell that he was still thinking about what Pavel had said earlier about the leeks and Ermakov’s arse.

  I was carrying the potatoes. They were from last year, of course, and were starting to sprout. They smelled of old potatoes. They smelled of spring, because it’s at this time of year that you sort through them all, throwing away the ones that have sprouted so much that there’s hardly any flesh left on them.

  There was a pig in the courtyard of the third house. It was digging in the ground with its snout. It lifted its head to look at us when we arrived. Kyabine and I put the leeks and potatoes down on the road. Sergeant Ermakov went into the courtyard alone. He walked past the pig, looked around, and knocked on the door.

  A man and a woman came out and they started talking with Ermakov. We could hear what they were saying. The man and the woman had two sons in the Shuyski regiment. They asked if we knew where the Shuyski regiment was at that moment. Sergeant Ermakov shook his head and told them that we didn’t know where any of the other regiments were.

  Then they talked about a distribution problem, although we couldn’t hear the details of what they were saying. Sergeant Ermakov seemed to agree with them, in any case.

  Suddenly the woman went back into the house and came out with a chicken. She must have been about to pluck it because it was steaming and dripping with water. But Sergeant Ermakov told them they could keep the chicken because unfortunately we had to take their pig. The woman let the chicken dangle from her hand and the man cried out breathlessly that it had been too hard to feed it all winter for them to let it go now. I wanted to yell at him that, if he wanted, we could tell him all about our winter in the forest and what we had to eat there.

  Sergeant Ermakov took a few steps back because the man was yelling louder and louder, and he was looking threatening now. In the meantime the woman had gone to sit on the front doorstep of the house. She put the chicken between her knees and started crying.

  Ermakov turned to us.

  It was time. Pavel and Sifra went into the courtyard. The man fell silent. His face tensed. His hands started trembling so much that suddenly we felt sorry for him, despite our winter in the forest. His eyes were full of tears. But it was his hands that were unbearable to watch.

  Pavel and Sifra walked between the sergeant and the man and went over to the pig. And while they were shoving it out of the courtyard, Sergeant Ermakov kindly asked the man what his sons were called.

  13

  I CARRIED THE potatoes and Kyabine the leeks. Ahead of us Pavel and Sifra herded the pig. Sergeant Ermakov walked at the back of the procession.

  Sometimes, when the pig started slowing down or moving sideways, Pavel would shove it with the butt of his rifle and yell at it: ‘Come on, get a move on, Kyabine!’

  Or: ‘Oh, Kyabine, what the hell are you doing? Keep going straight!’

  This made Kyabine laugh.

  Behind us, Sergeant Ermakov said nothing. I could tell that he was thinking about the man and woman in the courtyard, and that the memory tormented him. We’d requisitioned food with Ermakov before, and he was always like that. He always acted as if it was his own home that we were raiding. We knew he owned a farm somewhere. At the rate we requisitioned other farms, he must have had the impression that there would be nothing left of his own farm by the time he went home. But what could we do about it?

  Without turning around, I asked him what the Shuyski regiment was. He replied that he had no idea. So I asked him why he’d asked those people for the names of their sons, who were in that regiment. He told me to advance.

  I advanced. But I did so ever more sadly. The sadness was stronger than me. It was because of the smell of the potatoes slung over my shoulder. It didn’t evoke anything precise, that smell. Not one specific event, in any case. What it evoked was just a distant time.

  In the end I started feeling really low.

  I lengthened my stride to catch up with Pavel and walked beside him. I needed to feel him next to me. I didn’t want to tell him how sad I was, I just wanted him beside me. But he was busy herding the pig. He didn’t have time to pay any attention to me. He started talking to the pig as if it were Kyabine again. Behind me, I heard Kyabine laugh. That gave me an idea.

  I slowed down, and when Kyabine had caught up with me I offered to swap my sack of potatoes for his bundle of leeks. He gestured sideways with his head at his empty shoulder. I slung the sack over it and was about to take the leeks from him. But he made a sign to say that he was fine like that, that he could carry it all.

  In front of us, Pavel shouted at the pig: ‘Come on, Kyabine, are you going to advance or what?’

  Laughing, Kyabine called out: ‘You’re the pig, Pavel!’

  Behind us, Sergeant Ermakov barked: ‘For God’s sake, just shut your mouths, all of you!’

  14

  BY THE TIME we got back to the camp, the morning was over and the sun was high in the sky. It was lunchtime. The kitchen had been built in the pine forest. There was a stone hearth and some trestles with planks resting on them. The saucepans, buckets and ladles were hung from nails in the trees. Behind this you could see the company office, which we had built under a canopy of branches.

  The cook was so happy that we’d brought him back a pig that he gave us extra portions, along with a good pinch of powdered tea, which Sifra held in the hollow of his palm, like some precious treasure. It was rare to have tea there.

  We asked Sergeant Ermakov if he wanted to come and drink it with us. He replied: ‘Don’t worry about me.’

  We didn’t understand what he meant by that. We went to our tent, Pavel lit a fire, and we ate our food and listened to the boiling water whistle in our kettle.

  We quickly finished eating so we could enjoy our tea.

  But we had a problem. It happened every time we managed to get some tea. What the cook had given us was, as usual, only enough to make about half a cup of real tea. And there were four of us.

  So, if we added a lot of water, the tea wouldn’t have much taste. If we didn’t add much, it would taste like real tea but there would only be enough for one or two mouthfuls each. Sometimes we spent a long time discussing this before we made the tea.

  This time there was no dispute and it went a bit faster. All four of us agreed that it would be better to make a small amount of tea. That way, it would be nice and strong, the way we liked it. We kept it in our mouths until it was tepid. Only then did we swallow it. It didn’t last long, and as soon as we’d swallowed it we all wished we could go back one minute in time.

  Barely had we finished drinking that tea before we became nostalgic for it.

  But, all the same, it was better than no tea at all.

  15

  WE PUT OUT the fire. We rolled up our blankets, tucked them under our arms and set off for the pond. When we reached the pile of sleepers, just as we were about to go into the field, Pavel said: ‘We can’t go to the pond that way any more.’

  We stared at him. We didn’t understand. He pointed out the path we’d made by tramping down the grass and explained to us that if we kept taking that path we would end up showing the way to the pond to the rest of the company. And if that happened . . . farewell pond and farewell tranquillity.

  We climbed onto the railway track and followed it for half a mile or so. Then, leaving gaps of several hundred feet between us, we went into the field. Spaced out like that, we had more chance of finding the pond because we’d cover more ground than if we all walked together.

  The grass was so tall that we couldn’t see where
we were going. We advanced, each of us alone, solitary, as if none of us had ever had any comrades. I am saying this for all four of us because I feel certain that Pavel, Kyabine and Sifra felt the same way I did as we moved blindly forward through that field. That was why, after a while, we started yelling at each other at the tops of our voices. We heard Kyabine calling out: ‘Pavel! Sifra! Benia!’

  And we called out in turn: ‘Kyabine! Kyabine! Kyabine!’

  ‘Oh lads, I’m over here!’ Kyabine shouted.

  ‘You’re over there, Kyabine!’ we replied.

  And Kyabine in his booming voice: ‘Yes, I’m here!’

  ‘So, have you found it?’

  And in the same thunderous voice, Kyabine answered: ‘Not yet, but I’m here.’

  It was better like that. We continued to advance blindly, but the sound of our voices did us good. We had comrades again. Birds flew up in front of us. One of those types of birds that nest in grass.

  Suddenly Pavel yelled out: ‘Kyabine!’

  ‘Yes, Pavel, what?’ Kyabine replied.

  And Pavel yelled as loud as he could: ‘You big Uzbeki idiot!’

  Kyabine’s laughter echoed above the tall grass.

  We continued moving forward and suddenly we heard Sifra: ‘I found it!’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Over here!’

  We converged on him. He was smiling as he watched us arrive. He was very happy that he was the one who’d found it.

  The pond was calm. There was no wind.

  We approached the water. We could see the bottom of the pond today.

  We spread our blankets on the ground and lay on top of them. The sun was hot, and soon we took off our boots and our coats and folded up the coats so we could rest our heads on them. All of us except for Sifra, who remained sitting and disassembled his rifle, carefully lining the pieces up on his blanket.

  I lay on my side and closed my eyes. The air smelled of the pond, of mud and grass, and everything was peaceful.

  I’ve already said that this was a precious place.

  I never grow weary of saying that.

  ‘Please, Benia, give me some tobacco!’

  That was Kyabine, of course.

  I was about to say no so that he would have to beg me. But then I remembered the sack of potatoes that he’d slung over his shoulder and carried for me while also carrying the bundle of leeks.

  I sat up and gave him what he needed to roll a cigarette. He couldn’t believe it. He stared rapturously at the tobacco. I lay back down and closed my eyes.

  When I woke up, there was no one else near me. Kyabine was in the middle of the pond, carrying Sifra on his shoulders. Sifra was hanging onto Kyabine’s hair because he was afraid of the water.

  Pavel was sitting on the opposite bank, on the other side of the pond. When he noticed that I was awake, he stood up and came over to me.

  So did Kyabine and Sifra. They waded back to the bank, with Sifra clinging tightly to Kyabine’s hair until the very last moment. Not until Kyabine was standing on the sand did he let go.

  We washed our blankets.

  We soaked them in the water then rubbed them with sand. We rinsed them and then rubbed them with sand again.

  We rinsed them one last time and spread them out on the grass. The sun was so hot that steam rose from them.

  16

  WE WENT BACK to the camp with our clean, dry blankets. Near the pile of sleepers we bumped into Yassov, the hand sculptor, just as he was stepping over the railway tracks.

  He accompanied us back to the camp. He told us that he’d been to sell his hands to the men in Kossarenko’s company. They were camped on the plain too, but on the other side of the train tracks. Sometimes we could see the smoke from their fires in the distance.

  ‘Did you sell any?’ Kyabine asked Yassov.

  ‘Yes, one,’ Yassov replied.

  ‘What did you get?’ Kyabine asked.

  ‘This!’

  And he took half a dozen ready-rolled cigarettes from his pocket. They were thin, but they were cigarettes all the same. Kyabine stared at them enviously. Yassov put them back in his pocket and said: ‘We’re not going to stay here much longer.’

  ‘What?’ said Pavel. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘We’re going to leave this place soon. Kossarenko told me.’

  ‘How soon?’ asked Pavel.

  ‘A few more days and we’ll be gone.’

  We believed Yassov. This was bad news. We continued walking in silence. Then I asked Yassov if he knew where we were going. He didn’t. We would be leaving soon – that was all he’d been able to learn from Kossarenko.

  When we got back to the camp, we were sombre and silent. How many days did we have left to go to the pond and peacefully play dice outside our tent whenever we felt like it?

  We took our blankets into the tent and went for a walk around the camp, mess tins in hand, while we waited for the cook to bang his ladle against his bucket. Our mood was still gloomy after the news about our imminent departure.

  Outside the tents, men lit fires. They boiled water in the hope that there would be tea tonight. Some of them played dice outside their tents. There were a few men that we knew better than the others. We used to chat with them sometimes. We walked up to them to watch them play.

  We asked them if they’d heard the news that we would be leaving soon. They told us that everyone had heard the news.

  And where are we going? we asked them. No one knew.

  Pavel gestured to us. It was nearly time. We walked closer to the pine forest. But not too close because the cook didn’t like it when everyone crowded around the kitchen before he had given the signal.

  Suddenly we heard the ladle bang against the bucket.

  We rushed over to the kitchen. We were the first ones there and we held out our mess tins. But we didn’t see what they were putting in the tins because we were looking past the kitchen at some young lads sitting under a pine tree outside the company office. There were five or six of them. The oldest one was younger than Sifra. They were all eating out of the same saucepan. Most of them were dressed like peasants. Three officers – Kaliakine, our commander, Lieutenant Dymov and Sergeant Ermakov – were leaning against the company office, pensively watching them eat.

  ‘Who are they?’ we asked the cook.

  ‘They came up the train tracks,’ the cook replied.

  ‘And?’

  ‘They want to enlist.’

  Before we went away, we asked him if there was any tea tonight. No, there wasn’t, he replied. We asked him if there might be any just for us. But the answer was still no. That bastard – he’d already forgotten that we were the ones who’d brought him the pig.

  We walked back to the tent with our mess tins. All of those men boiling water for tea would soon be disappointed. They’d be drinking plain hot water instead. As we were passing, we called out to them: ‘Hurry up, there’s tea tonight!’

  17

  IT WAS KYABINE’S turn to sleep with the watch. Pavel handed it to him and he kissed it lovingly. We really liked it when he did that. He knew it, and his kisses became ever more passionate. Sometimes Pavel told him that if the woman in the photograph had known that a big Uzbeki idiot kissed her like that every third evening, it would have put her off men for ever. Kyabine asked him what the hell he knew about it. Pavel replied that he knew.

  Finally Kyabine delicately placed the watch under his blanket and lay down. I asked him if he would let me have the watch tonight in return for a cigarette.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  I asked him again. Would he agree to let me have his turn with the watch if I gave him a cigarette? He thought about this for a moment and then asked: ‘How many would you give me?’

  He’d heard me say one, of course. I wasn’t going to let him rip me off. ‘One, Kyabine,’ I repeated. ‘One cigarette.’

  ‘Two,’ he said.

  ‘You can keep the watch, Kyabine,’ I told him.

&n
bsp; He realised I wasn’t going to back down. He seemed to hesitate, then he raised himself up on one elbow. I took out a cigarette and handed it to him. He kissed the watch one last time before giving it to me.

  ‘And who gets to sleep with it tomorrow?’ he asked.

  I replied that we would go back to our normal rota tomorrow, which meant that it was my turn.

  ‘Ah!’ he sighed, disappointed.

  He remained raised up on his elbow. I was afraid he was going to change his mind. I put the watch in my pocket, blew out the oil lamp and lay down.

  It was a pleasant feeling to have a clean blanket. I said this to Sifra because it had been his idea to wash them, but he didn’t reply. He was already asleep.

  I lay there with my eyes wide open.

  I could smell the oil from the lamp and I thought about our winter in the forest.

  18

  WHEN PAVEL WOKE me in the night, I accidentally knocked Kyabine’s leg as I was getting out of bed. He looked up and said: ‘What are you doing?’

  We didn’t answer. I tucked my coat under my arm. But Kyabine wouldn’t let it go.

  ‘What are you doing? Where are you going?’

  ‘Go back to sleep, Kyabine!’ I told him.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Everything’s fine. Just go back to sleep.’

  We left the tent and rushed out of the camp before Kyabine had time to think of getting up and following us.

  That night, Pavel didn’t want to go to the pond. He stopped at the pile of sleepers and sat down on them. I left him in peace. I climbed onto the train tracks and walked on the ballast, slowly, because I didn’t want to go too far away.

  Sometimes, during the daytime, I thought about what I might say to Pavel to console him. And of course I found things to say. But at night, when it was just the two of us, either I didn’t dare say those things or I couldn’t remember them. So sometimes I was afraid that Pavel would think he was unlucky having a comrade like me. What good did it do him to wake me up and bring me with him if I never said a word to console him?