Red Winter

by Smith, Dan

  As Kashtan took us on, deeper and deeper into the mist, time passing almost unnoticed, the sound of something alien arose in the distance.

  A clatter and clank of metal. The hiss of steam and the thunder of rolling wheels.

  It resonated through the trees, an unnatural and intrusive discord in the wilderness.

  Anna gripped her father tighter and he, in turn, released the reins with one hand so that he could put his other hand on hers for reassurance.

  He looked across at me, opening his mouth to speak but flinching as a shrill scream cut through the cold air, snatching away his words.

  His horse lurched beneath him, her legs locking for a moment, jerking Lev and Anna forwards before she backed away, head turning from side to side, searching for sight of the danger she could hear. Her muscles flexed, and she turned in a tight circle, desperate to escape the unnatural sound. She snorted hard, her breath coming in great clouds of steam.

  ‘Whoa.’ Lev calmed her, stroked her neck while the scream faded to an echo and then to nothing, allowing the rhythmic clatter and clank to rise from behind and threaten to fill our world.

  17

  I had not forgotten that the railway line cut through the road between Belev and Dolinsk, bypassing both towns so that any passenger was oblivious even to their existence. I had seen the trains many times before. It was always something of an attraction, almost as if it were from another world. The great metal beast that steamed through the forest, scattering the snow in winter. Sometimes they were immense, and as boys, Alek and I would count the seconds it took for the wagons to roll past. We would put our hands on our ears as the ground shook, and laugh at the exhilaration of being close to something so large and powerful.

  But I did not feel the same exhilaration now as I heard the familiar sounds of approach. It grew louder, the squeal of metal on metal cutting into the quiet of the forest.

  ‘A train,’ I reassured Anna. ‘Just a train.’

  ‘Which direction is that coming from?’ Lev asked, raising his voice and turning his head to catch the sound. It was disorientating here among the trees. Everything looked the same from every angle, and the sound seemed to wrap round us as if it came from everywhere at once.

  Anna pushed tighter against her father, eyes wide at the approaching sound, and Kashtan moved her ears, searching for the source of it.

  ‘Keep going,’ I told her. ‘Don’t be nervous.’ She had seen trains before, but here it was just a terrible noise somewhere out of sight. And it is always the unseen that holds the most fear.

  We moved on as the sound grew louder, and when I spotted the track in a shallow cutting between the trees a few metres ahead of us, we dismounted and brought the horses into the shadow of a thick-trunked ash to hide us from the train as it passed. I considered forcing Kashtan to lie down, but thought the effort and discomfort to her were not worth it. The train would be here and gone in just a few seconds, so the trees would be adequate cover.

  As the train approached, though, it seemed to be travelling slowly, and when it finally broke from the mist with a swirl of steam, I knew it was slowing down.

  I let Kashtan rest her chin on my shoulder and I wrapped my hand round her muzzle to hold her tight as it came closer. She moved against me, snorting with anxiety, but I calmed her and glanced at Lev, who was doing the same. With his other hand, he held his daughter close to him. He was half turning her head, pulling her face into his chest as if trying to protect her, but despite a hint of fear, there was also a spark of curiosity and excitement in her eyes.

  The metal beast passed by at walking pace, travelling south on the line, giving us a clear view of the armoured engine at the front, its lights winking in the mist, the red star on its nose grimy yet still unmissable.

  When that symbol of the revolution led the war machine from the gloom, it stood as a stark reminder of what I had once followed. I had marched under a banner with such a symbol on it, I had worn the red star on my uniform, and more recently, I had seen it turned to a different purpose: to burn its mark into skin, searing flesh as if it were a calling card. I had once associated that symbol with a better life for people like Marianna and the boys, like Lev and Anna, but now it was something to revile and hate.

  The procession of carriages continued past, sullen and brooding, out of place in this bleak and beautiful wilderness; a blunt sign of the war that was throttling our country.

  Coupled behind the reinforced engine was a blinded wagon, plated with metal, riveted and welded and cut with slits for riflemen to fire at all angles from within. The open wagon directly behind that was small and provided a platform for a Maxim machine gun, which was unmanned but accessible from the armoured car. The following wagons were an assortment of passenger cars and red cattle-cars, at least ten, and they rattled and clattered past us as if limping back from battle. At the end of this war train was another blind wagon with firing slits, and the final carriage was open and mounted with a Putilov field gun, which was capable of firing a variety of shells over great distance.

  Some of the passenger cars had glass windows steamed opaque, while others were shuttered or covered with metal mesh so it was impossible to see what or who was inside. There were holes punched into the woodwork, splintered boards in the wagon sides, blackened patches where it had been burned or caught with the blast of explosives. On the roof of each wagon, there was a multitude of boxes, bags and crates of ammunition, weapons and supplies and man piled upon man in chaotic disorder. The soldiers were sitting, standing, lying wherever they could find space. Some of them were wounded, some were dead, and some were dying.

  There was an air of tiredness and defeat about this limping monster.

  ‘What is this?’ Lev asked. ‘Where are they coming from?’

  I shook my head, still watching this ragged convoy limping past. It was not the monstrosity we had thought when we heard its approach. Now it seemed more tragic than terrible.

  ‘Looks like they’re retreating from something,’ I said.

  ‘I thought the fighting was further south,’ Lev replied. ‘They’re going in the wrong direction, heading right into it. That doesn’t make sense.’

  The train was moving at just a crawl now, and we waited for it to pass before I told Lev, ‘Stay here.’

  I mounted Kashtan and approached the railway line, watching the field gun retreat and then disappear into the mist, leaving a swirling vortex that shifted and twisted and then settled. The noise of the train continued, but it slowed further, as if the beast were dying.

  ‘It’s stopping,’ I said to Kashtan. ‘Maybe we should go and look.’

  I turned her about and went back to Lev and Anna, telling them my intention.

  ‘Shouldn’t we just keep moving?’ Lev asked. ‘That train is loaded with soldiers.’

  ‘We’ll stay hidden,’ I said. ‘You can even stay here if you want, but I have to look.’

  ‘Why? Why can’t we just keep going? Those men are behind us and—’

  ‘Because I’m looking for my wife and sons, and this train is coming from the north. Some of those carriages might contain prisoners bound for labour camps, or someone aboard might be able to give me some information about Koschei. Maybe they heard something, saw something. Maybe they know who he is.’

  ‘But the men behind us . . .’ Lev looked over his shoulder, staring into the forest.

  ‘I have to look,’ I said. ‘Don’t you understand? If that train is carrying prisoners on their way to labour camps, then Marianna might be with them. My wife. My sons too. Misha and Pavel.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lev said. ‘I didn’t think. But this is a war train, isn’t it?’

  ‘Any one of those closed carriages might have my family inside it,’ I argued. ‘I have to know there are no prisoners. I have to.’

  Lev looked as though he wanted to say something else, but he understood how desperate I was. I couldn’t leave this possibility uninvestigated.

  ‘Look,’ I said, �
�if you want to go on without me, I’ll catch you up.’

  Lev thought about it, his agitation clear. He was afraid of the men following us, and he was afraid of the men on the train, but he didn’t want to be alone in the forest with his daughter. He was a teacher, not a soldier. It would be easy for him to lose his way.

  ‘All right,’ he conceded. ‘We’ll come.’

  So we followed the iron track, moving off it when it became clear the train had stopped. If I were going to investigate, I would have to do it carefully. I was a deserter, a wanted man.

  We trailed the noise of the idling train and the smell of burning coal left in its wake, keeping the track visible to one side, while listening to the shouts that came out of the mist. At first, they were intermittent, the occasional order snapped from the mouth of someone in charge, punctuated by the hiss of released steam from the engine.

  ‘Out!’ the voice was shouting. ‘Out!’

  Then other voices joined it so that a chorus of them was yelling orders.

  Nearer still, the train not yet visible in the mist, other sounds began to prevail. Many of these were quieter and lower, but they were infinitely more disturbing. An almost perpetual groaning hummed in the air, deadened by the stillness of the forest. A bustle of hushed voices.

  Murmuring and whispering was coming from all sides, as if the spirits had risen and were closing in on us.

  ‘What is that?’ Anna asked.

  Lev glanced at me, waiting for an answer.

  ‘Sounds like ghosts,’ Anna said. ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘It’s wounded men,’ I told them. ‘That’s what the battlefield sounds like after a fight.’

  We kept on, moving closer until the shape of the train was just visible and the deep moaning had grown louder.

  ‘You two should stay here.’ I stopped and inspected our surroundings.

  At some time, a path for the track had been cleared through the forest, but it had not been well maintained and already there were saplings, taller than a man, pushing from the earth close to the rails. Grass and thistles grew in the spaces between the sleepers, nature threatening to reclaim what had once been hers. A little further back, there was an area where the trees were thick and the brushwood and brambles were unruly.

  ‘Over here,’ I said, leading Kashtan away from the track.

  I hitched her to a tree, Lev doing the same, asking, ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll have a look around, come back as soon as I can.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s safe?’

  ‘It should be fine. I won’t be long, but don’t come near the train. If I’m longer than an hour, go on without me, covering your trail just like we’ve been doing. Keep going north to Dolinsk; you’ll be fine there.’ I gave him my best reassuring look and winked at Anna, crouching in front of her and pulling down my scarf so she could see my face. ‘Look after Kashtan for me.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  When I stood, Lev pointed to my rifle. ‘You can’t take that with you. We both know civilians are outlawed from carrying weapons.’

  I looked at the rifle, reluctant to leave it behind, but knowing he was right. ‘You know how to use it?’ I asked him.

  When he nodded, I handed it to him and he started to put it over his shoulder.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Keep it out of the way. Hide it somewhere you can get to if you need it, but don’t let anyone see you with it. And don’t make any noise.’ I started to walk away but stopped and lifted a finger. ‘Make sure you stay right here. Don’t go anywhere. And no—’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Lev said. ‘I understand. We’ll wait right here.’

  ‘Good. I’ll be back soon.’

  And with that, I went on, enveloped by the sound of dying, as if I was walking into hell.

  18

  The train had not stopped at a station, but hunched in the shallow cutting through the forest as if it had paused for breath before continuing its journey. From all along its length, men spilled onto the trackside. The wounded stumbled from every door, like the walking dead. Comrade helped comrade as they fell and limped and crawled away from the train. Officers patrolled the length of the track shouting orders, telling the injured to stand clear, to get away from the train, and from the roofs of the carriages, soldiers passed down the corpses of the men who had perished during the journey.

  The mist swirled about them, mingling with the smoke, burned away in places by the steam that hissed and jetted from beneath the wheels of the engine. The length of the train was shrouded in a nightmarish whirlpool of cloud, and the stink of burning coal, and there was that awful sound underlying everything; that terrible moaning.

  Few men had the energy to speak, but those who did spoke in heightened voices, confused chatter, edgy with panic that began to build, smothering the monotonous groan of the wounded and the dying.

  And with the wind so still and the air so cold, there was another dimension to the horror of this train. When the doors were opened, so the atmosphere from within the carriages was released, and warmed by the wood-burning stoves within, the tepid air that escaped was sweet with the scent of decay.

  Watching from my place in the woods, it occurred to me that this whole land was dying, and I wondered if anything could revive it.

  The chaos grew as more and more soldiers disembarked from the train until there were three or four hundred of them littering the forest. Many lay down as soon as they were clear of the metal beast, dropping wherever they could until bodies covered every part of the frosted ground. There were men with their arms in slings, others with bandaged heads or chests, men with missing limbs, diseased men resigned to their fate. Others were becoming more vociferous, calling to their commanders, asking what was happening, what was to become of them. The commanders ignored them and carried on with their task of emptying the train and setting able men to clear the dead from the roofs.

  So it was into this sea of uniformed men that I went unnoticed, stepping from the trees and going among them, searching for any alert enough to answer my questions.

  Crouching to speak to one man, I asked where they were coming from, had he heard of Koschei? But he just stared through me as if I wasn’t there, so I moved to the next man and then the next and the next, stepping over and among them, asking the same question but receiving no response other than the blank stare of men who have seen enough.

  Up ahead, close to the front of the train, a soldier faced the carriages, ordering men down from the roof. I took him for a commander of some sort because he assumed an air of authority. He was dressed in a good winter coat and wore a thick hat. Round his shoulder he wore a leather strap from which hung the wooden case of his pistol. He had sturdy boots on his feet, and he moved back to avoid the poorly dressed men who tumbled from the roof and limped from the doors.

  When I was three carriages away, the commander looked in my direction and our eyes met. He had a severe face, mean and hardened by war, only now it displayed a hint of confusion, his eyes narrowing as if he recognised me or wondered at my purpose. When he moved, though, starting to come towards me, one of the disembarking soldiers fell against him, jostling him backwards. The commander regained his footing and held the man firm with both hands, turning him and helping him to sit on the ground by the track.

  I pulled my hat low to cover my brow and tugged the scarf over my mouth to hide my face as I continued, picking my way among them. I watched the commander squat by the wounded man and light a cigarette for him, looking up in my direction, just as someone reached out and grabbed the hem of my coat.

  I stopped and turned to look down at him.

  ‘Are you a doctor?’ he asked. ‘They said there would be doctors.’

  He was sitting cross-legged, his cap tipped to one side, his coat unbuttoned. The dressing on the left side of his face had once been white but was now a dirty brown. Beside him, a younger man sat with the head of another comrade face down on his lap. He was tu
rned towards the forest, staring at the bones of the trees while running his hand through his comrade’s hair as if to comfort him.

  I crouched beside the soldier who had grabbed my coat.

  ‘Are they going to leave us here?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then why are they making us leave the train? They said there would be doctors; that they were taking us to the doctors.’

  ‘They will,’ I said, glancing around at the commanders walking the length of the train, checking doors and roofs, ordering the last stragglers from the cars. ‘Are there prisoners here?’ I asked. ‘In any of these carriages?’

  ‘Are we there? Is this where the doctors are? Is that what you are?’

  ‘No. Listen to me.’ I kept control of my temper. I had to remain discreet. ‘Are there any prisoners on this train? Women and children? Are you headed for any camps?’

  ‘They don’t tell us anything,’ he said.

  ‘But you must have seen.’ I felt as if I wasn’t getting through to him, but I needed to find out what he knew.

  ‘I’ve seen no prisoners. Just soldiers.’

  I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Sure as I can be.’

  I nodded and took a deep breath to calm my nerves. ‘Where are you coming from?’ I asked. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘Tambov.’

  ‘But you’re going the wrong way. You’re heading towards Tambov.’