Four Soldiers

by Hubert Mingarelli

  I made a U-turn and walked back to the sleepers. But when I got to where Pavel was sitting, I just kept going because I had the impression that he still wanted to be alone a little longer.

  I would have liked to light a cigarette but I preferred to wait and smoke one with him.

  I walked another hundred yards or so and then I turned back again. When I reached him, I sensed that he was feeling better, so I asked if he was all right.

  He nodded. I sat on the sleeper facing him and offered him a cigarette. I could see glimmers in the distance – almost certainly Kossarenko’s camp. They still had fires lit at that time of night.

  I held back from doing what I had been planning to do since the previous night. I waited until we had finished our cigarettes. And even after we’d thrown the butts on the train tracks and I was watching their glowing ends fade, I continued to hesitate.

  Then at last I did it. I took the watch from my pocket and handed it to Pavel. Because it was so dark, he asked me what it was.

  ‘Take it,’ I said. ‘It’s the watch.’

  19

  PAVEL CALMED DOWN and we went back to the camp. He’d accepted the watch and I was proud of myself for having had that idea to console him. We both knew that the watch didn’t really bring us luck and that we weren’t really sleeping with the woman inside it. As I’ve said, we just liked to imagine those things. All the same, when it was our turn to have it, we were always very happy to put it in our pocket for the night. And Pavel must have felt that way now. Two nights running with her – he must have been doubly happy. I didn’t regret the cigarette it had cost me. In fact, if Kyabine had insisted, I’d have given him more for it. Thankfully he didn’t realise how much I needed the watch.

  The path was wide enough for us to walk side by side. This was the path we’d run along when we were racing with the railway sleepers. That gave me an idea for a conversation, so I said: ‘We beat Kyabine good and proper, in that race.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was here that we had the race,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Oh . . . yeah.’

  ‘We beat him good and proper, eh?’

  It wasn’t as cold as the night before. I was sleepy. I felt good because we were headed back to the camp and I would soon be able to go to sleep. I hoped we could sneak into the tent without waking Kyabine.

  I was dog-tired but everything was fine. I was happy that I’d had the idea of the watch, and I was happy that I’d soon be back in bed. Then suddenly everything stopped being fine because I started wondering again: what if I took Sifra’s place in Pavel’s dream? What if it was me who cut his throat? What would happen then? Would Pavel still want me to go with him at night? I knew the answer to that last question. Pavel would never say to me: ‘I dreamed that you cut my throat – let’s go outside. I want you to come with me because I need you by my side.’ No, he would probably ask Kyabine or Sifra instead. And I understood that.

  When we reached the tent, I felt sad and worried. Pavel was feeling better. He fell asleep straight away with the watch.

  I lay there with my eyes open.

  I was sleeping next to Sifra. I heard him breathing and may God have mercy on me but at that moment I hoped with all my strength that it would always be him who held the knife in Pavel’s dreams.

  20

  SERGEANT ERMAKOV POKED his head through the gap in our tent. He looked at each of us in turn. We knew he couldn’t be here to take us on an expedition, because we’d gone with him only yesterday. So we asked him what he wanted. ‘Get out of there!’ he ordered.

  The sun had risen and we should have been up, but we were nice and warm under our blankets.

  ‘Let us sleep!’ Pavel groaned.

  ‘Get out of there!’ Sergeant Ermakov repeated.

  We didn’t move. Sergeant Ermakov grew angry. He started kicking the tent. So we had to get up and go outside before he tore it.

  The camp was shrouded in mist. The sun was still hidden behind the pine forest. Next to Sergeant Ermakov was one of the young lads we’d seen eating outside the company office the previous day. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders. Beneath that he wore a sailor’s shirt and a jacket.

  Pavel sat on a railway sleeper to put on his boots.

  ‘He’s going to be with you,’ said Sergeant Ermakov.

  We stared at Sergeant Ermakov in astonishment. Then Kyabine, Sifra and I turned to Pavel, who had stopped in the middle of putting his boots on. Silently we asked him to say something to Sergeant Ermakov. He seemed to understand this and told the sergeant: ‘We’re not going to take him. You, Sergeant, are going to kick him out of the army and send him back to his mother.’

  The kid looked down at his peasant’s boots. Sergeant Ermakov remained calm and said: ‘You’ll have to tell him how things work around here, the organisation and all that.’

  As he finished putting on his boots, Pavel said: ‘We’re not going to tell him anything because we don’t want him.’ At that, Pavel looked up at us and asked: ‘Eh? Do we want him?’

  We weren’t as bold as Pavel in front of Sergeant Ermakov. None of us said a word, but it was still an eloquent response. Sergeant Ermakov sat on the sleeper facing Pavel and said: ‘You’ve got a bloody big mouth.’

  Pavel pulled apart the opening of the tent. ‘Look, Ermakov,’ he said. ‘You can’t fit five of us in there.’

  Sergeant Ermakov did not look inside the tent. It was a good thing he didn’t, really, because there was plenty of room for five people in there. He said calmly: ‘We’re going to be leaving this place soon.’

  Then he stood up and left.

  The kid continued staring at his peasant’s boots.

  21

  WE PREFERRED TO stay in the camp that morning. We played dice. We didn’t gamble. The dice kept falling off the wooden crate. We didn’t speak. We took turns to throw the dice. We hardly bothered keeping score. The kid sat there and watched us. He was sitting on the end of Kyabine and Sifra’s sleeper. He still had the blanket over his shoulders. We had nothing against him. We just didn’t want him to be there.

  When the kid got up to go and take a piss, Kyabine waited until he’d moved out of earshot and then asked why we weren’t going to the pond. Pavel said it was risky, showing it to the kid, because Sergeant Ermakov might change his mind and put him in a different tent. And if he did that, then we could wave goodbye to the tranquillity of the pond.

  I thought about this and said to Pavel: ‘Yeah, but seeing as we’re going to be leaving soon anyway, we might not get to go there at all any more.’

  Pavel admitted this was true.

  ‘And I don’t think Ermakov is going to change his mind,’ I added.

  The kid returned. He’d taken the blanket off his shoulders and was holding it under his arm. Sifra told him to put the blanket in the tent.

  The kid stepped over the wooden crate and went into the tent. We started playing again. In a low voice Kyabine asked: ‘So are we going to the pond?’

  Pavel threw the dice.

  22

  KYABINE AND THE kid went to fetch the meal. The kid did not have a mess tin or any cutlery. But when he came back, he had everything he needed: a mess tin, a half-pint mug, a knife and a spoon.

  We ate and smoked. We played dice for a bit and then we questioned the kid. And this is what he told us: he was from Vsevolozhsk, near Lake Ladoga. He’d taken the train from St Petersburg. He’d travelled on a running board all the way to Mogilev. Then from Mogilev to Voronezh. That was where he’d been told where to find part of the Third Army: us.

  At the Cheka office he’d been given the clothes he was wearing, plus some underwear and a regulation blanket. He’d been told to wait for other new volunteers and to follow the railway tracks to our camp.

  We asked him if he’d ever held a rifle before. Yes, he said, a hunting rifle. We asked him his name. He was called Kouzma Evdokim. I asked him how many times he’d been hunting. Just once, he said. Kyabine asked him if he had any
tobacco. No, but he did have some tea left.

  We lit the fire, boiled some water and prepared the tea. This time we didn’t have to worry about how many cups we would make. There was plenty: enough for a whole kettle’s worth. The tea tasted bitter. It wasn’t as good as the tea we’d been given before. But, all the same, we drank every drop of it.

  After that, we went for a walk around the camp. The Evdokim kid came with us. We still had the bitter taste of his tea in our mouths. We stopped outside Yassov’s tent. He’d copied our idea of putting a railway sleeper outside his tent. He was sitting at one end of it and sculpting a hand. Five or six finished hands were lined up next to him on the sleeper. He glanced up at us then continued to work.

  We still didn’t want his hands. But it was interesting to watch him sculpt.

  23

  WE WALKED UP the railway tracks and just as we were about to enter the field and head to the pond, Pavel hesitated. Then he signalled that we should continue along the tracks. It was a shame. Sometimes Pavel was overly cautious. I felt sure that Ermakov wouldn’t change his mind about the kid now and put him in another tent.

  We walked for an hour and finally reached a station. The inside was empty: no chairs or tables remained. The floor was covered with printed pages. There was a dry turd in one corner. Kyabine threw it out of the window. We sat down on the floor and played dice. I lent Kyabine some tobacco. He rolled one cigarette and smoked it, and he gambled with the rest of the tobacco. He swore to Sifra that he was going to win and pay him back what he owed.

  The Evdokim kid watched us play for a while then he went away and we forgot about him. The station was full of smoke. We threw the dice on the papers that covered the floor.

  Occasionally clouds floated above the station. The sunlight came and went.

  Suddenly I said: ‘Where’s the kid?’

  No one answered.

  It was my turn to play. I threw. I counted my points and Pavel picked up the dice.

  I got up and went out. The Evdokim kid was sitting there on the platform, his back to the station wall. He was writing in a notebook with a grey cardboard cover. When he saw me, he closed the book and looked embarrassed.

  ‘So!’ I said.

  He lowered his eyes and started fiddling with the corners of the notebook’s cover. I stood there a little longer in the doorframe and then I went back into the station and, as I sat down, I announced that the kid was writing something in a notebook.

  It was Kyabine’s turn to throw the dice. He rolled them around in his hand.

  ‘What’s he writing?’ Pavel asked.

  ‘Dunno.’

  Suddenly Pavel turned towards the door and said in a loud voice: ‘Write to your mother that Kyabine is a big Uzbeki idiot!’

  ‘Don’t write that to her!’ Kyabine said, laughing.

  Then he lifted his hand, ready to throw the dice. But he paused and yelled out: ‘Write to her that I’m going to score more points than Pavel!’

  Only then did he throw. He quickly counted his points and picked up the dice. But it was my turn. I tried to grab them from his hand. But he kept his fist so tightly shut that it was impossible. ‘What are you doing, Kyabine?’ I asked.

  Kyabine giggled and said: ‘Don’t bother me!’

  He threw the dice again and used his big fist to threaten anyone who tried to pick them up.

  ‘I’m going to play until I’ve scored more points than Pavel. I want the kid to write that to his mother.’

  I turned to the door and said: ‘You should write that Kyabine is a cheat!’

  Kyabine picked up the dice in one hand and used his other hand to hold my mouth shut. Then he threw again, counted the points, and shouted: ‘All right, you can write it now!’

  He let go of my mouth, put his hands behind his neck, leaned back against the station wall and roared triumphantly: ‘Oh, Pavel!’

  24

  THE SUNLIGHT CONTINUED to dim and brighten. The sky grew overcast, almost as dark as night, and then suddenly we heard a crack of thunder. The Evdokim kid came back into the station and sat with us. We closed the door and the window and we waited for the storm to end. Sifra lay down and fell asleep. When he was asleep like that, you’d have guessed he was the same age as the kid.

  This was not a precious place like the pond but at least it sheltered us from the storm. With the door and the window closed, it felt like being inside a house.

  The Evdokim kid played with the dice. Pavel and I tried joking around with him. Pavel asked him if he’d written that Kyabine was a big Uzbeki idiot and I asked him if he’d written that Kyabine was a cheat. He didn’t answer us. He just gave us a shy look and continued to play with the dice.

  Kyabine, who had not been listening to what we were saying but had heard his name spoken, asked us: ‘What are you two talking about?’

  ‘Nothing, Kyabine,’ I said.

  ‘It wasn’t nothing,’ Kyabine insisted. ‘You said my name.’

  Then he addressed the kid: ‘What did they say?’

  The Evdokim kid was increasingly intimidated. Anyone would have been, in his place. He tried to concentrate on the dice because he didn’t know what to say to Kyabine.

  The storm moved away. I got up and went out. The rain had flattened the grass and the air smelled good. It smelled of earth and wet grass. The sky above the station was blue, and towards the east it was grey. A bit further off, where the storm was, it was black.

  I went back into the station. We woke Sifra and walked back to the camp. I almost fell when I was walking on the train tracks. They were slippery from all the rain. Kyabine saw me. He climbed up on a rail and tried to do better than me. As he was about to succeed, I pushed him and then ran off laughing.

  25

  JUST BEFORE WE reached the pile of sleepers, Pavel said we could go to the pond. He’d decided there wasn’t really much risk that Ermakov would put the kid in another tent.

  The pond seemed different to us, after the rain. The water was darker. There was something strange about it, as if it had become deeper. And all around it was different because of the storm. Everything looked new and different. The bank was furrowed with lots of little grooves where the water had streamed through, and all around – and as far as the eye could see – the grass lay flat, soaked by the rain.

  Above the pond the sky was blue, as it had been above the station, but its reflection in the water didn’t look very blue. The air was transparent.

  The day was coming to an end.

  We approached the water.

  The Evdokim kid was already there. He was putting his hands in the water. For him, this was the first time he’d seen the pond. He couldn’t tell how new it looked after the storm.

  We smelled the mud as we drew closer to the water. We didn’t say anything. I held my rifle by its barrel, the butt leaning on my shoulder, and I lifted my head to sniff the indefinable smell of evening.

  A fish jumped from the middle of the pond and Kyabine pointed at where it had appeared. We watched that part of the water to see if it would jump out again.

  26

  WE’D FORGOTTEN THE dice in the station. We didn’t try to figure out who was to blame. We just knew that we’d have to go and find them as soon as we could, before anyone else found them.

  The tent was big enough for five. The Evdokim kid wasn’t used to our oil lamp, though, and the smoke hurt his eyes.

  Kyabine was kicking up a fuss about the watch. I think, in reality, he was just pretending not to understand that it was my turn to have it tonight. ‘I bought your turn from you last night,’ I reminded him.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but that means it’s my turn again now.’

  ‘Stop it, Kyabine,’ I replied. ‘Stop trying to mess me around. It doesn’t mean that at all.’

  Finally I asked Pavel: ‘Does it, Pavel?’

  And Pavel calmly backed me up: ‘Kyabine, you know perfectly well how it works.’

  Kyabine gave up. He lay down under his blanket an
d didn’t say another word.

  But the problem was that Pavel still had the watch with him from the previous night. And neither of us wanted Kyabine to ask why Pavel had it, when I was the one who’d bought his turn. Pavel pretended to reach down for his cigarette case and instead he took out the watch and slipped it under the blanket to me. Nobody saw.

  I wondered what the Evdokim kid made of all this. Suddenly Kyabine sat up and said: ‘I shouldn’t have sold you my turn.’

  Seriously, what could the Evdokim kid be thinking about all of this?

  I turned off the lamp.

  27

  PAVEL WOKE ME up and we sneaked out of the tent without waking anyone else. We didn’t go to the pond that night either. It had rained so much during the storm that we risked getting wet up to our waists if we tried to cross the field. And how could we dry ourselves afterward?

  We went and sat on the sleepers, next to the railway tracks. I waited for Pavel to sit and then I sat on the sleeper just below his. It was a good spot. I was very close to him – I could see his boots on my sleeper – but I wasn’t bothering him by looking at him. He had me right beside him and I could wait for his terror to go away without disturbing him. I wouldn’t have to wonder when it was the right moment to move closer to him.

  It was a clear night. The storm had cleaned up the sky. The stars shone all the way to the horizon, as far as the eye could see.

  I’d seen this kind of sky once before, one night in the forest.

  Pavel’s stove worked perfectly and it was safe too: we were never afraid of our hut catching fire. I’ve already told you that. But what I didn’t say is that the fireplace was very narrow, so we had to feed it with fuel all the time. That wasn’t a problem during the day, but at night it was a big problem. How could we arrange things to keep the stove roaring so we wouldn’t all freeze to death at night? We used the military method. We divided the night into four parts and each of us took turns to watch the stove. In the evening we stocked up on wood inside the hut so nobody would have to put on their coat and their boots and go out into the cold. But one night we ran out. And it was my turn to watch the fire. So I put on my boots and my coat and I went to fetch some wood from our stockpile. And that’s the point of my story: it was that night in the forest that I saw this sky.