Max Glebow
Prohibition of Interference. Book 2. Tactical Level

Chapter 1

The Dnieper to the north and south of Kyiv abounds with islands, and its width, even in the narrowest places, is about a kilometer. According to the leadership of the Red Army in August 1941, the river was an important factor in creating a strong defense of Kyiv.

From orbit the situation looked very sad for the Russian troops, although for the front commanders on the ground it might not have seemed so threatening. The German 6th Army began to storm the Kyiv fortified area and thoroughly cut into the Soviet defense, but the introduction of fresh divisions allowed the Red Army to restore the situation by mid-August, pushing back the enemy and unblocking the concrete fortifications, the garrisons of which had been fighting in encirclement for almost a week. This success seemed to have led Comrade Stalin and his generals to believe in the ability of Southwest Front forces to hold the capital of Soviet Ukraine, but the situation at the front changed sharply once again.

Convinced that, despite the capture of Smolensk, the German troops could not break the stubborn resistance of the Soviet forces, the Wehrmacht command considered it impossible to continue the offensive against Moscow without eliminating the threat from the flank, from the armies of the Southwest Front, which were still stubbornly defending the Kyiv bulge. On 24 August 2nd Panzer Group[1] and the infantry army of Maximilian von Weichs turned south and launched an offensive to encircle the Russian forces defending Kyiv. The Soviet divisions, weakened by previous battles, could not stop the Wehrmacht tank fist, but they still launched vigorous counterstrokes from the east against the flank of Guderian's motorized units, which diverted his forces and slowed his advance to the south. Perhaps the Southwest Front could cope with 2nd Panzer Group, even supported by Weichs' infantry, and, if not win, at least not to be surrounded. Apparently, the Red Army command sincerely believed that the Germans would limit themselves to this strike, as soon as the enemy did not have an equally powerful tank group on the southern flank of Kyiv's defense. In fact, the Soviet generals again underestimated the Wehrmacht's ability to maneuver mobile formations quickly and unexpectedly.

Simultaneously with Guderian's strike, the huge masses of tanks, artillery and automobiles in German Army Group South came on the move. Satellites showed me columns of equipment from General Ewald von Kleist's Panzer Group stretching for dozens of kilometers, which were moving in forced march toward the southern face of the Kyiv bulge. Now they were still on the western bank of the Dnieper, and in order to strike from the south to meet Guderian's tanks, they needed to cross over to one of the bridgeheads previously captured by the Germans. However, judging by the amount of engineering equipment that the Germans were bringing to the river, the German troops were up to the task, although they had to use almost all the means of passage at their disposal. Such a mass of equipment required a kilometer-long pontoon bridge capable of supporting tanks.

I saw the death loop tighten around the Russian armies, but what can a junior lieutenant waiting to be assigned to a new unit in a shallow rear area do in such a situation?

The situation of Soviet and German troops at the beginning of September 1941. The blue shaded arrow is a strike by Heinz Guderian's Panzer Group, inflicted in early September. The blue dotted arrow is the planned strike from the Kremenchuk bridgehead by Ewald von Kleist's Panzer Group (in real history it took place on September 12 and led to the closure of the Kyiv pocket).

* * *

Our breakthrough from the encirclement was met by the command very ambiguously. NKVD officers from the Special Department of the Southern Front immediately took General Muzychenko and Division Commander Sokolov, and all the others who escaped the pocket were taken to the rear to be re-formed. But that doesn't mean we've been left alone. A week later I was summoned to the Special Department.

“Have a seat, Comrade Nagulin,” the battalion commissar nodded as he listened to my report, “we have a long conversation ahead of us.”

I sat silently on the stool in front of the officer's desk, and my face was full of concentration. The fact that he addressed me as 'Comrade Nagulin' made me a little uneasy, but at least it wasn't just 'Nagulin'. If, after all, I am a 'comrade', I can expect no immediate accusation of something incompatible with life and liberty just yet.

“It wasn't long ago that you were a common soldier, Comrade Nagulin, wasn't it?”

I wanted to answer, but the commissar stopped me by raising his palm.

“And you were promoted to junior lieutenant by personal order of the commander of the 6th Army already in the encirclement. It's a little unusual, don't you think?”

“Discussing the decisions of the Army Commander is beyond my authority and competence, Comrade Battalion Commissar,” I pretended not to understand what he was getting at, keeping a neutral expression on my face.

“In this you are undoubtedly right, Comrade Nagulin, but still. There is an opinion that the Army Commander was in a hurry and made this decision under the pressure of circumstances, not being able to carefully weigh the pros and cons.”

I was silent, and the Commissar watched my reaction carefully.

“Now the Special Department of the Front is conducting an investigation,” the NKVD officer told me in a confidential tone, “The 6th and 12th Armies effectively ceased to exist. I can't give you exact figures – the information is classified – but the implications are that the likelihood of treason at the top of the armies is very high.”

“Comrade…” I couldn't keep quiet about it, but the Commissar stopped me again with a hand gesture.

“I know what you want to say, Comrade Nagulin. But believe me, from the point of view of an ordinary soldier and even a platoon commander the situation looks quite different from what it looks like at the army level and, especially, at the front level. So don't be in a hurry to speak out, but listen to me for now.”

I obediently fell silent.

“In fact, no one has any complaints about the actions of your platoon and to you personally, although there are questions, but that's a topic for a separate conversation,” continued the Commissar, “Moreover, most likely, based on the results of the investigation, your new rank will be approved by order of the front commander. But that decision will depend on your answers to my questions – right answers, Comrade Nagulin. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Comrade Battalion Commissar. Don't doubt, I understand the importance of this investigation, and my answers will be truthful, even if that truth would put me and my people in a bad light,” I continued to play the part of the not too clever, but an extremely honest fighter, who sincerely wants to help the investigation, but doesn't know how to do it.

“Very good,” the NKVD officer grimaced slightly. He obviously wanted to hear a slightly different answer, but he didn't comment on my words, “Then let's get to it. What task did Lieutenant General Muzychenko assign you?”

“Form a platoon of anti-aircraft defense to cover the 'special purpose convoy', the headquarters of the 6th Army had to leave the encirclement as part of it.”

“And you've accomplished that task,” the Commissar nodded affirmatively, “Now tell me, Comrade Nagulin, who instructed you to bring the equipment and men into your platoon as reinforcements, which turned it, in fact, into a combined company?”

So that's how it is. Comrade Battalion Commissar intends to defame General Muzychenko, and clearly does not do it on his own initiative, but on orders from above. And I really don't want to give up the General…

“The initiative came from me, Comrade Battalion Commissar. I sought to carry out the order in the best possible way. I applied for reinforcements to my immediate supervisor, Major Svirsky. I don't know how decisions were made on them further, but I got people and equipment in most cases.”

“Unfortunately, we won't be able to ask Major Svirsky anything else,” the officer of the Special Department shook his head, “he died when he broke through the German covering force near the village of Yemilovka. But I don't think that without the authorization of the Army Commander, the Major could take out reinforcements for your platoon from units that were not subordinate to him, could he?”

“I do not have this information, Comrade Battalion Commissar.”

“And think about it, Comrade Nagulin,” grinned the NKVD officer, “the regulations do not forbid it. Try to take a broader view of the situation, by going beyond the task in front of you. You are a junior commander, and your actions are quite understandable to me. You have an order, and as you yourself said, you are striving to carry it out in the best way possible, for which purpose you ask for anti-aircraft guns in your platoon, an armored car, trucks and a DShK machine gun. If you look at it from the platoon commander's point of view, it's reasonable and the right thing to do. Now let's look at these actions from a different perspective. The army is preparing to break through the encirclement. There is little serviceable equipment, ammunition and fuel left, but all the best is taken from the units to form a staff column. As a result, we get a mechanized battalion, overstaffed with equipment, generously supplied with fuel and ammunition. And on the other side of the scale is the enormous mass of troops left without the essentials of warfare. Even the breakout groups are less well supplied, although the staff column follows their backs.

And what was the result? And the result, Comrade Nagulin, is that of the whole army entrusted by the Motherland to Lieutenant General Muzychenko, only one battalion with the commander at the head breaks out of the pocket, and the whole 6th Army remains in the pocket without the means to continue effective resistance, and only scattered groups and solitary Red Army soldiers and commanders come out to our troops. Do you know how many people besides your battalion were able to get out of the pocket?”

“I can't know that, Comrade Battalion Commissar.”

“And I know! And this knowledge makes me very unhappy, Comrade Nagulin, and makes me wonder who is to blame for what happened.”

I could not deny the NKVD officer his logic. The thing is that explicitly blaming it all on Muzychenko was also wrong. To begin with, instead of holding Pervomaisk with all its forces, the 18th Army withdrew to the south, and the leadership of the Southern Front did not even warn the encircled troops about it. Not to mention the fact that at the most critical moments the armies in the pocket not only had no air support, but did not even receive any orders from the front commander.

The Commissar interpreted my silence in his own way.

“I see that you are beginning to understand the situation, Comrade Nagulin,” he said with satisfaction, “So you confirm that you received an order from Lieutenant General Muzychenko to form a reinforced air defense platoon without regard for the loss of combat effectiveness of the units from which equipment and ammunition will be removed for your unit?”

“I was not ordered to assess the combat effectiveness of the units from which the equipment was removed,” it was no longer possible to keep silent, “I didn't even know where it came from. Major Svirsky was in charge of these matters.”

“But you're not a stupid man, Nagulin,” the NKVD officer shook his head, holding back his irritation, “and you should have understood, that it was impossible to take equipment away from the units without reducing their combat effectiveness.”

The Commissar was actively pushing me to testify against Muzychenko. Of course, the junior lieutenant's words alone could not play a decisive role, but in combination with other 'facts' they were quite capable of 'drowning' the Army Commander. Well, forgive me, comrade Svirsky, who died in battle, I will have to use your name to protect General Muzychenko. Otherwise I have no way to explain how I got the information I received from the satellites as a result of the radio intercepts of talks between Muzychenko and Ponedelin.

“It's not a lieutenant's question, Comrade Battalion Commissar,” I answered after a short pause, “Nevertheless, Major Svirsky deemed it possible to briefly explain to me the reason for gathering the surviving equipment in the staff column.”

“That's very interesting, Comrade Nagulin,” the NKVD officer even leaned forward in his chair, “And what did your immediate superior tell you?”

“He said that Major General Ponedelin, commander of the 12th Army, was appointed commander of all the encircled forces, and that General Muzychenko was actually removed from the planning and organization of the operation to get out of the pocket.

However, according to him, General Muzychenko was given the task of ensuring the breakthrough of the 6th Army staff column to the Southern Front troops and to coordinate with them the efforts to hold the punctured corridor and the subsequent withdrawal of the remaining troops of the encircled armies from the pocket. There was no doubt in my mind that, to this end, the ‘special purpose convoy’ should concentrate the best of the equipment remaining in the line.”

The officer of the Special Department became gloomy. He pondered my words in silence for a while, and then said:

“That's enough for today, Comrade Nagulin. You will now put your testimony in writing, and you are free to go. Our conversation is not over yet, but we will continue it a little later.”

* * *

The special department of the NKVD of the Southern Front was located in Dnepropetrovsk. Battalion Commissar Kirillov did not take the risk of trusting the information he gathered to the telephone and went to his superiors in person. Comrade Sazykin's office was on the third floor of a pre-revolutionary building on Oktyabrskaya Square, where Kirillov arrived close to noon.

“Well, Battalion Commissar, any results?” The head of the Special Department came out from behind the desk and extended his hand to his subordinate.

“Yes, Comrade Commissioner of State Security 3rd Class,” Kirillov nodded, shaking Sazykin's hand, “but not exactly what we hoped for.”

“What have you dug up?”

“The testimony of Muzychenko and Sokolov is confirmed. Pfc. Nagulin, promoted to junior lieutenant by order of the commander of the 6th Army, states that his immediate superior Major Svirsky, while giving him a combat task, also told him the task of the entire 'special purpose convoy'. Why he did it, and how he himself got this information, remains unclear, and it is no longer possible to ask him, but Nagulin's words coincide with the testimony of the Lieutenant General and the Division Commander.”.

“Do you have the papers with you?”

“Yes, everything I collected is here,” Kirillov lightly slapped his palm on his leather briefcase.

“You leave them to me. An order came from Moscow. Muzychenko and Sokolov are being taken away from us. At 4 p.m. a plane will fly in to pick them up, so this case will now go to the top, to the Directorate, and our job is to pass on all the findings to the superiors.”

“Copy that!” Kirillov opened his briefcase and began to take out the cardboard folders, “What about the others who got out of the encirclement?”

“It's the same as usual,” Sazykin shrugged, “We'll interrogate them, and if we don't find any evidence of treason, we'll turn them over to the personnel service. We have divisions of 3,000 men each, so they'll find a place quickly.”

“Shall we send Nagulin to re-form too? Muzychenko, in his testimony, singled him out especially, and even wrote submissions for state awards on him and his men.”

“What rewards, battalion commissar? Two armies and a mech-corps perished in a pocket! Forget it. Let them be glad to be alive.”

“Comrade Commissioner of State Security 3rd Class, allow me to work with Nagulin more thoroughly. This is a very unusual fighter. Not everyone can personally shoot down several enemy planes. He speaks German without an accent. People who have been around him tell stories about his hearing and eyesight…”

“This is not our business, Comrade Kirillov. Do you have reason to suspect Nagulin of treason, criminal cowardice, or collaboration with the enemy?”

“There is no direct evidence, but…”

“I got acquainted with his case, battalion commissar – this case also interested me, but a fighter who personally destroyed so many fascists, can't work for the enemy. Iron evidence of these facts is not always present, but what was seen by dozens of Red Army soldiers and commanders, is more than enough.”

“What if he is not working for the Germans? There are still allies and neutral countries. In that case German losses can only be to his advantage. He is very well prepared. This is noted by Captain Shcheglov and Sergeant Ignatov. This is also confirmed by sniper Serova and Sergeant Pluzhnikov, who, let me remind you, is from our department. I'm not talking about the Red Army soldiers Chezhin and Sharkov, whose opinion could have been ignored, if it didn't coincide with the others. Where could he have received such training? In the taiga, shooting at squirrels? I don't believe it!”

“I thought about it,” nodded the head of the Special Department, “it doesn't add up. No one would ever infiltrate an agent with such training in such a crude way, the risk of losing a valuable specialist is too great. And do the Americans or the British really need an agent on the front lines of the Soviet-German front? The resource cost of preparing an operation of this level is incommensurate with the possible benefits.

All right, that's it! Send him to the personnel office, but don't take the surveillance off. For the time being, let those in charge handle it, and then we'll see. We let him prove himself not in a pocket, when there are almost no living witnesses to his tricks, but in a more controlled situation. The only thing is… whisper to them that Nagulin should be assigned to the same unit as the men in his platoon. We have already worked with them, and it is not yet necessary to expand the circle of people who know about our interest in him.”

“What about his rank?”

“And what about his rank? We have an order from the Commander of the 6th Army. The Front Commander Tyulenev did not cancel it. Muzychenko himself is not yet officially charged with anything, and with these testimonies,” Sazykin nodded at the folders on his desk, “most likely, he will not be charged with anything, he has honestly performed the task, so all the charges will go to General Ponedelin, who surrendered. So let Nagulin be the commander, since he deserves it, especially since his platoon performed at its best during the breakthrough. We can't reward him, so at least we'll keep the cube in his buttonhole. That's it, Battalion Commissar, you're free. I still need to prepare the Muzychenko and Sokolov cases for transfer to Moscow.”

* * *

The respite allowed me to take stock and evaluate my actions. I can't say that I was satisfied with them. Yes, I managed to escape from the pocket, and that is a definite plus, but, as practice has shown, I had all the chances of staying there, having caught an accidental bullet or shrapnel, or even just being captured. In the final part of the breakthrough I finally lost control of the situation, and if Muzychenko had not promptly organized a rocket and artillery strike against the motorized battalion that had clamped us, this story would not have ended well for me and my men.

As long as I'm operating on a tactical level, I'm not going to get anything useful done. An accurate marksman, exceptionally effective scout, or saboteur is fine, but it's only a captain's level, well, in the best-case scenario, the level of a major. This does not mean that there is no point in taking advantage of these benefits, but they're not the ones I need to focus on.

I have a network of satellites at my disposal, the potential of which is much greater than that I have already used. Due to circumstances, I could not fully dispose of extensive data on the course of military operations on the entire front, and was forced to confine myself to the limits of the Uman battlefield, and more often to a few kilometers around the place where I was at the moment. Now that I was out of the encirclement, I had some room for choice. Naturally, no one will ask the junior lieutenant where he wishes to apply his military leadership talents, but at least now the problem of basic survival is not taking up all my available time and energy, so I can think calmly about the situation.

First, about the satellite network itself. I use it as a local car driver, just recently getting behind the wheel. I more or less know what knobs to pull, what to twist and where to push, but I have no idea how it all works or how to adjust the engine and the hanger bracket to make it work better. That's understandable – I'm a space fighter pilot, not a scientist. Yes, I picked up something from Letra, but it's a pittance compared to what the experts who researched Earth's civilization knew. I had never even thought before about where the information that accompanies the satellite picture comes from.

I saw from orbit, say, a tank column crawling along the highway. Well, a column, then what? But the computer would immediately tell me, that they were, for example, vehicles of the 'Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler' tank division, and sometimes it would indicate the end point of their route. And the names of the unit commanders? I saw them in the comments too, but where did the computer get them from? There are no unit numbers and the names of commanders written on the equipment.

Of course, I understood that before I was on the planet, research had been going on for many years, and there was a lot of information accumulated in the databases, which could be processed by the computer to supplement the data from orbit, but some of the details just can't be figured out by observation from above. Undoubtedly, there is also radio interception, which the network of satellites conducts in continuous mode. Cracking local ciphers is easy, but even this does not explain everything, although it explains a lot.

Where, for example, does one get detailed information about the design of weapons and equipment? That Finnish pistol, for example… When I took this weapon apart, I had in front of me a three-dimensional model with all the details of its construction and functioning. From where? The answer suggests itself – there is something else besides satellites.

Colonel Niven didn't tell me anything about this, he just didn't have time, I guess, but Letra told me about drones equipped with camouflage field generators that are used to collect data on other planets. She did not mention that these drones are also used on Earth, but if scientists from other research bases had used them to obtain information, why not assume that the drones are here, too, and they are still operating even now, sending the collected data into orbit? That's quite likely. The other thing is that I don't know how to operate them, and maybe I don't have the right access codes.

The computer had the satellite network documentation in its memory, but I did not have time to study it, which is not surprising. Letra, for example, studied at Metropolis for four years before taking her position, and, according to her story, not all of those who began the training were able to finish it. I know how to make the most necessary settings, but beyond that… In general, it seems that the most complete mastering of the high-tech tool I have got in my hands should be one of my main tasks for the near future, if my knowledge and training are sufficient.

Chapter 2

A cozy courtyard with neat benches, which were surrounded by carefully trimmed green bushes, was visible from the window of a military hospital room in Dresden. Erich von Schliemann had had enough of this view, and when the massive gates opened and let a black Mercedes into the courtyard, he was even a little pleased with something new in the boredom of recent days. A few minutes later, footsteps were heard outside the door, and Colonel Heinrich Richtengden followed the doctor into the room, wearing a white coat over his uniform.

The Major rose to meet him. It had been relatively easy for him the last few days.

“It's good to see you, Erich,” said the Colonel without a smile, “I was afraid it was much worse.”

“Herr Oberst,” the doctor said to the guest, “Major Schliemann suffered a serious concussion. Please try not to make him nervous.”

“I'll take that into account,” the Colonel nodded, and the doctor quietly left, closing the door behind him.

“How do you feel, Erich?”

“You're absolutely right, it could be worse,” the Major shrugged, “You know, Heinrich, I had no idea that the Communists could act so quickly. That barrage of fire… My battalion was wiped out.”

“Russian rocket artillery,” the Colonel winced, “So far they don't have many of these weapons, but it looks like the enemy command is banking on them. Our Nebelwerfers are more accurate, but the Bolsheviks have a longer range and more shells in a volley. It's not a pleasant thing.”

“I've had the opportunity to see it for myself,” Schliemann nodded.

“What happened there, Erich? The testimony of the survivors doesn't make the picture very clear. Did the Russian marksman manage to get away?”

“Most likely yes, Herr Oberst. Unless, of course, he was caught by accidental shrapnel. I ordered my men not to shoot him – I wanted to take him alive, but the Russians hit with such force that anything could have happened.”

“This is bad, Erich. Very bad. I think you should understand the depth of the trouble that awaits us in the near future. Our operation was already known at the top, and now, if the Russians put their new firing equipment into production…”

“It's not so terrible, Heinrich,” Schliemann said with a slight smile on his face.

“Is that so?” The Colonel asked incredulously.

“There is no special equipment, Herr Oberst,” the Major's voice sounded confident, “I saw him firing an anti-aircraft gun. There's an open platform, not even a shield, and I was able to see everything in detail. The gunner had no special equipment, and the anti-aircraft gun looked perfectly standard. It's just one person. Yes, he's a genius marksman, but it's not about a device that can be given to every soldier, it's purely about his personal qualities or special abilities. But he's just one, you know? He is the only unique person in the entire Bolshevik army, and one shooter, no matter how good he is, cannot determine the outcome of the war, especially if he is stopped in time.”

“Are you sure about that, Erich? He shoots without seeing the target,” said the Colonel thoughtfully, “How does he do it? Not by ear! Although… If there's no equipment, maybe it's some kind of medication that increases perception by an order of magnitude?”

“Then why is there only one, Heinrich? No, it's not the chemistry. In addition, it is difficult to imagine how strong the drug must be, to amplify hearing and vision in such a way. This Russian has demonstrated his abilities for far too long. If he had been on powerful stimulants all this time, he would have died a long time ago, there are no miracles.”

The Colonel was silent for some time, pondering what he had heard, but Schliemann saw that Richtengden's face gradually smoothed out, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from him and he was told that he no longer needed to carry it.

“I'm sure I can find him and close the problem for Germany once and for all,” Schliemann's face was grim with determination.

“Is this revenge, Erich?” Richtengden grinned, “It seems that this Russian was able to get under your skin.”

“He is only a savage, Heinrich, but a dangerous savage, and he must be stopped before he kills hundreds of our soldiers.”

“Well, well…” said the Colonel indefinitely, “Get well, Erich. You gave me some very important information, and I'm sure it will be highly appreciated on the top. I think your personal participation in the hunt for the Russian shooter will be approved. In any case, I'll keep you informed.”

* * *

My rank was confirmed for me. In the Personnel Department I received a new Identity Book and a referral to the 300th Infantry Division, to be exact, to its separate reconnaissance company, which surprised me somewhat, but when I saw the name of my new commander in the document, I only grinned. Captain Shcheglov, it seems, got his way, and I must confess, I was only happy about it.

Sergeant Pluzhnikov was taken to the rear. I managed to visit him in the field hospital, and he said that the shrapnel had caught something serious, and he would be back in action in three months at best. But Chezhin and Sharkov went to their new duty station with me, and there was obviously someone's unobtrusive interference.

They took the Panzerbüchse away from me almost immediately, despite all my insistence, but I still had the Walther stashed away and would not give it away. But now I, as the future commander of the reconnaissance platoon, was given a Shpagin submachine gun and a Nagant revolver. These weapons were extremely difficult to aim, but both the PPSh and the revolver were good for close combat.

“Well, hello, Nagulin,” Shcheglov replied to my report with a satisfied smile, “I didn't expect to see you so soon. Honestly, I'm glad to see you like one of my own. Of my men with whom I started the war, only Ignatov and Nikiforov remained. How did you get into scouting? I thought you were going to the air defense, but that's how it turned out.”

“It's hard to say, Comrade Captain. I thought it was you who wrote a report asking me to be assigned to you…”

“Who needs my report, Nagulin?” grinned Shcheglov, “I don't think anyone would listen to me.”

“My men from the anti-tank rifle crew were sent to you with me.”

“Chezhin and Sharkov?” The Captain nodded, “Good fighters. They're not scouts, of course, but they've been through so much that we can coach them quickly. They took away your German gun?”

“They said it wasn't allowed.”

“It's a pity. It was a good thing… Though why would a scout need it?”

“I'd find a use for it.”

“I don't doubt it. You, Nagulin, can find a job for a sea mine in reconnaissance, too, if you're given one.”

I smiled. Shcheglov looked tired, but collected and businesslike. It was clear that command was pushing his company very hard, but the Captain was not giving up.

“You'll take the second platoon,” my new commander has moved on, “Ignatov is in command there for now, but it's not a sergeant's position, although he knows the service.”

“Copy that!”

“I'll give you until tonight to get up to speed, and then I'll make all the demands. We don't have time to chill here. Command shakes us all the time and demands information about the enemy. The Germans occupied Kremenchuk, seized a bridgehead on our bank of the Dnieper and are ferrying infantry units to it. Our troops tried to hold on to the big islands, of which there are plenty, but the Germans quickly drove us out of there. We can't throw them into the river – we don't have enough forces, so all we can do is hold the Germans back. An order came from the army headquarters to the division. They need prisoners to find out what is going on in the bridgehead and to uncover German plans. How the hell did they get so hot over there, if the Army Headquarters is giving out such orders? It's not their level. I would have understood if Regimental Headquarters had sent such an order…”

“The weather is bad,” I shrugged, “it's raining a lot and it's cloudy. The aviation does not fly, so there is no information, and the high headquarters are afraid, that the Germans will strike from here to the north, to the rear of the South-Western Front.”

“How do you know this, Nagulin? Or does the front commander himself report the situation to you?”

“I don't know, Comrade Captain. I'm just guessing, based on what you told me.”

“That's it, Junior Lieutenant, you're free. Go settle in and take over Ignatov's platoon, and I still have to get the group ready for the evening to go out for a prisoner who will talk. There aren't even a dozen experienced scouts in the company. The rest are ordinary infantry. I can't send them on such a mission.”

“Permission for me to go with the group, Comrade Captain?”

“You'll have this opportunity more than once, Nagulin, don't fuss.”

“The Germans are up to something, I can feel it. Then it may be too late.”

“So you feel…” said Shcheglov thoughtfully, sinking down on a rough stool, “You used to say 'I hear' or 'I see,' and I believed you. Or rather, I didn't believe it right away, but then I didn't doubt it anymore. And now you say 'I feel,' and again I want to brush off those 'feelings' of yours. But Captain Shcheglov does not keep making the same mistakes. Okay, you're in the group. I'll take you myself – you're not familiar with the local conditions yet, so I won't trust you with people on the first mission. We meet here at midnight, we leave at one-thirty. Look, Nagulin, you asked for it.”

“Permission to go take the platoon and get ready?”

“Go, Junior Lieutenant, though, wait a minute. You know who I met this morning at the First Battalion position?”

I waited silently for the continuation, looking at the Captain with interest.

“Sergeant Major Serova. She even asked me where to find the battalion commander. Lipovich assigned her as a sniper in the third company. Today is just a meeting day, don't you think?”

* * *

The weather favored us. Low cloud cover obscured the moon, and the rustle of drizzling rain concealed the sounds. Even the flares weren't much help to the enemy – their light was lost in the rain. It was wet, dirty, but at least not too cold. It would be an exaggeration to call the German defense line discontinuous, but there were gaps between the trenches and strongholds. The enemy gradually expanded the Kremenchuk bridgehead, and the Germans did not always have time to equip full-fledged positions. It would be great to hit them now with a couple of tank divisions supported by heavy artillery, but where to get them? The Southwestern Front has almost no reserves, and the forces allocated by the General Headquarters are spent on flank counterstrikes against the advancing Guderian tanks.

“There's the enemy's machine-gun position ahead – 130 meters forward and 15 meters to the left,” I reported to Sheglov, who had long ceased to be surprised by such revelations on my part, “It's better to go around it on the left. On the right there's a continuous line of trenches, and the Germans do not sleep there.”

“Got it,” the Captain nodded, changing direction, and we crawled forward, crouching to the ground in the flashes of flares flying into the sky.

There was regular rumbling all around – the Germans were delivering disturbing fire at the positions of the 300th Infantry Division. Our troops tried to respond, but they were clearly saving shells.

Since the order to seize a prisoner for interrogation came directly from the headquarters of the 38th Army, the division commander gave Captain Shcheglov a corresponding task. The top brass didn't want just anyone. Ordinary soldiers or noncommissioned officers can not know much, although one can argue with this – exceptions occur, but the probability of coming across such a knowledgeable lower-ranking person is still not too high. So we were ordered to take an officer, and that made it very difficult. The bridgehead is not the Germans' deep rear on the western bank of the Dnieper. Officers don't walk around here alone, and we still have to find them in the middle of the night in pitch black when we have to stick our faces in the dirt after every flash of a flare.

In fact, there was almost certainly no point in capturing some ordinary infantry lieutenant, either, and I told Shcheglov about this at once. The Captain grimaced, realizing that I was offering him a raid deep into the German bridgehead, but in the end he agreed. I needed to do this for two purposes. First, I wanted to be on the bank of the Dnieper to be able to tell the Captain that I had heard and seen signs of preparations for the delivery of heavy equipment to the bridgehead, and second, I needed a successful operation in order to gain a certain credibility in the eyes of division commander Kuznetsov, otherwise he simply would not listen to me.

The gap in German positions was explained quite simply. They were cut in two by a ravine overgrown with bushes, with a stream running along the bottom, which was turbid from the mud that flowed down the slopes. This waterlogged place was completely unsuitable for combat operations, and the Germans limited themselves to setting up a dozen and a half mines in the most passable places.

The computer highlighted these German surprises to me in an alarming orange color, but Shcheglov was not born yesterday either and knew very well, what one could run into in such places.

“Remizov, move forward,” the Captain ordered quietly.

The sapper moved slowly deep into the ravine, checking the ground in front of him with a special probing rod, while I was careful to make sure that he would not miss the deadly gift from the Germans in the dark and slippery mud. The Captain looked concentrated, but I didn't feel too much tension in him. Apparently, the commander was confident in his subordinate's qualifications. In any case, Remizov was up to the task. He did not touch the mines he found, but only raised his hand each time and carefully crawled around the dangerous spot. The group followed in his wake.

There were five of us on the raid. Besides me, Remizov and the Captain, Sergeant Ignatov and Pfc Nikiforov, who were very familiar to me, were with us. The only person new to me in the group was the sapper.

We traversed the first German defense line for about an hour and a half, and when it was behind us, the scouts looked like big moving lumps of mud. Only the weapons, which everyone was trying to protect, looked more or less clean. But now we could afford to move faster, since there were noticeably fewer Germans.

Enemy infantry moved in separate groups along some very bad roads leading from the coast to the front line. It looked like the Germans used the night time to reinforce their troops on the bridgehead. There were also horsed antitank guns, and this indicated that not only ordinary boats but also more serious watercraft were involved in the crossing.

“We must keep going, Comrade Captain,” I suggested softly to Shcheglov, “everything will become clearer near the river, and there are probably officers there – someone has to distribute the incoming soldiers. And here we can search for control points until the morning, and it's not a fact that we'll find them.”

“Go right, Nagulin,” the Captain nodded toward the nearest group of trees, which seemed a vague blur in the darkness. It was obvious that he really did not want to get into the middle of this snake's nest, but Shcheglov saw no other way to perform the command's task.

In about 40 minutes we came to the Dnieper. The splash of the oars and the muffled commands in German resounded far and wide in the moisture-soaked air. No one prevented the Germans from crossing the river. It seemed that the command of the Southwestern Front did not consider an increase in the number of enemy infantry on the Kremenchuk bridgehead a serious problem for itself; moreover, it had, by and large, no way to effectively prevent the Wehrmacht infantry divisions from moving across the Dnieper at night.

We got almost to the shore. I unobtrusively straightened our route, and eventually we came to one of the distribution points for soldiers arriving from the west bank. Not that there were many boats, but they regularly came ashore, emerging from the damp haze. The Oberleutnant, surrounded by a few noncommissioned officers and a couple of dozen soldiers, was in charge of meeting the new arrivals. The boats poked their noses into the shore, and the Germans quickly unloaded and formed a marching order. The local Oberleutnant briefed their commanders, gave the forming columns an escort, and sent them east. That was a real Ordnung.

One could not even dream of capturing the Oberleutnant as a prisoner for interrogation. He was surrounded by many soldiers the whole time, but even if we had succeeded, his disappearance would have almost instantly turned the river bank into a disturbed anthill, and we would not have been allowed to leave in peace.

We had been lying motionless for nearly two hours in the wet grass under cover of not too dense bushes and watching the shore. The situation looked like a dead end. All officers arriving by boat went to the front in platoon columns, and attacking such a column with our forces was out of question.

I knew that German sappers had already built a pontoon bridge to one of the islands closer to their shore. Now this structure could not withstand tanks and other heavy equipment, but light artillery and trucks moved confidently over this bridge. This greatly simplified the task of crossing the infantry divisions, and by and large this bridge should have been destroyed immediately, but our command knew nothing about it yet, and it was only possible to get proof of the existence of this bridge here.

Judging by the fact that the columns of German tanks continued inexorable movement toward Kremenchuk, the Germans were soon to begin building a bridge across the Dnieper. They were already bringing in pontoons and the necessary materials for construction and storing them on the opposite bank. With such a concentration of forces and means, German sappers could accomplish the task very quickly, and then a very unpleasant surprise in the form of a strike from the south by von Kleist's Panzer Group 1 threatened our 300th Division, the 38th Army, and the entire Southwestern Front.

“You called me ashore, Junior Lieutenant,” Shcheglov couldn't stand it, “Here we are, then what?”

“Just a minute, Comrade Captain,” I asked, closing my eyes and concentrating.

The night and low clouds made it very difficult to see the details, but I did manage to spot a boat heading toward our shore, the composition of its passengers being somewhat different from the rest of the boats. The German officer who crossed to the eastern bank of the Dnieper was not of high rank. By playing with the filter settings, I was able to see his insignia – the Hauptmann. Perhaps it was a company commander, or maybe a battalion-level staff officer. The computer had no additional information about him – he wasn't Guderian after all.

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a little swim,” I finally said, which seemed to put Shcheglov into a slight stupor. I should have hurried up and made my point clear. “Comrade Captain, the boats approach the shore at 10–15 minute intervals. Every fourth one is a freighter. There are only four soldiers on oars, one or two noncommissioned officers, and an officer, as a rule, a lieutenant or Oberleutnant – probably a platoon leader. They don't expect an attack, especially from the water. You remember, I think, how I know how to handle knives. Only I must start now, or the boat with the officer will get too close to our shore, and my actions will be discovered.”

“Do you realize that if something goes wrong, there's nothing we can do to help you?” Shcheglov answered after a second pause, looking somewhere in the distance.

“I understand that, Comrade Captain. There are no Germans a kilometer downstream. They don't control the whole shore behind them – apparently, they believe that no one but their own can come from here. I'll try to be there in an hour at the latest. If I don't make it in an hour, I won't go to the meeting point – I'll hide on some small island and wait for the next night.”

Shcheglov glanced at his watch. He didn't want to let me go alone, it was obvious, but the group still didn't have time to complete the task any other way in the time remaining before dawn, so the Captain essentially had no choice.

“We'll wait for you for two hours,” Shcheglov cut off in a tone that could not tolerate objections, “Then the group leaves. If you make it sooner, we have a better chance of getting to our troops without shooting. If you don't find the right boat, come back immediately, that's an order. Have you understood everything, Nagulin?”

Chapter 3

The water was quite cold, but bearable enough. I left my Nagant and PPSh with my ammunition and all my iron, except the knives, with the Captain. But I had six knives hanging from my belt, and two more in special sheaths mounted on my shoulders so that I could reach and throw them in one motion.

The quietest and most inconspicuous way to swim is underwater. That's what I chose. Holding my breath for five minutes did not cause me undue stress, and in that time I could swim a long enough distance. I didn't need to dive out to get my bearings, so I headed straight for the point where I planned to meet the Hauptmann's boat. It took me about ten minutes to get there, and now I was about 50 meters away from my target. The boat turned out to be quite large and could have been equipped with a motor, but the Germans, who had such motors, decided not to make any noise and preferred to use oars.

My plan did not contain any subtle tricks and was based solely on surprise, speed and accuracy. I assumed that the Germans would not be expecting an attack on a route already traversed by other boats dozens of times that night, and I was confident that the speed and precision of my body movements far exceeded the the reaction and coordination of the movements of the locals. As it turned out a little later, I was very much mistaken.

I waited underwater, and when the enemy boat was a meter from my head, I made a sharp movement with my legs that pushed me upward. At the same time, I grabbed the bow of the boat, and threw my body over the side, which tilted slightly.

The soldiers, who were oaring, didn't even have time to realize what had happened. They were only a few meters away from me, and I couldn't miss from that distance. Hauptmann, comfortably seated in the stern, did not have time to react either, or rather, he reached for his holster, but the handle of the knife that struck him in the forehead rendered the officer unconscious for several minutes. But the non-commissioned officer, who on closer inspection turned out to be a Stabsfeldwebel, showed better training than all the other Germans in the boat, and in addition, he had more time than the soldiers who died almost instantly.

I feared he would start screaming, trying to raise the alarm, or try firing his MP-40, but apparently the German knew he might not make it in time. I didn't even notice him pulling a knife, as I was busy first with the soldiers and then with their commander, and when my attention did shift to the last enemy, the German had already thrown his weapon. I must say, he did it masterfully, and his knife was as good as mine.

The unexpectedness of the attack played a cruel joke on me – I was not prepared for such a development. Instantly assessing the threat, the computer took control of my muscles and jerked me to the left with a U-turn, disregarding my body's physiological capabilities. The combat mode of the implants allows me to do such tricks under the condition of an immediate threat to life. I needed to keep my body as trained as possible just for occasions like this. Such a stunt would put an unprepared person in a hospital bed for a very long time.

The Stabsfeldwebel's knife, aimed at my heart, ripped through my blouse and flew into the water, tearing the skin on my shoulder. I didn't even notice this wound. My spine cracked, my back muscles felt like they were exploding with pain, and I could hardly keep from screaming, but I couldn't stop. The German, not the least bit embarrassed by the fact that I managed to dodge his knife, had already grabbed his submachine gun. I jumped forward, ignoring the pain in my protesting muscles. The boat rocked, and the German, who had begun to raise his weapon, lost his balance. In principle, it didn't make any difference – he wouldn't have had time to pull the breechblock anyway. At the last moment, the Stabsfeldwebel tried to shield himself with his submachine gun, but my fist took a circular trajectory and struck the German in the cheekbone. There was an unpleasant crunch, and my enemy's body went limp. I picked up the MP-40, which had fallen from his weakened hands, and laid it carefully on the bottom of the boat.

My body resented this treatment, and I was frankly wobbly. The combat mode of the implants lowered my pain threshold, but I still felt bad and time was inexorably running out. The current was carrying the unmanageable boat, and even though it played into my hands now, I needed to take up the oars right away. I could clearly see the marks of the group's men, who had already arrived at the agreed point on the shore, but first something had to be done urgently with the wound I had sustained.

The knife had thoroughly damaged my skin and many small vessels, and the blood didn't want to stop, despite the best efforts of the implants and my increased ability to regenerate. The Stabsfeldwebel had a bandage bag, and it took me a few more minutes to stop the bleeding.

After about ten minutes, my body gradually began to recover. This wound, quite light in itself, could not really have knocked me out, but the strong burst I made when dodging the knife put a lot of strain on my body, and these two factors, put together, almost killed me. Bio-implants do not have their own energy sources, and are powered by the body's resources. Apparently, I spent too much energy on dodging in forced mode and the subsequent jump with a punch, and there was almost no energy left to fight the wound, but now I was gradually getting better.

When the boat bumped into the shore, I was still dizzy and lurching. The scouts picked me up and helped me get to the bush. I did not participate in the ensuing looting of the enemy boat. Enjoying the rest, I allowed my body to send all the resources to recover, and when Shcheglov came up to me a quarter of an hour later, I felt noticeably better.

“Can you walk, Junior Lieutenant?” the commander asked worriedly.

“I think so,” I sat down carefully, listening to my feelings. My back was aching, but I seemed to be able to avoid tearing my muscles. I swayed gently left and right and back and forth. My spine did not protest. But the wound on my shoulder was beginning to hurt, but I could bear it.

“It's not that bad, Comrade Captain,” I grinned, “I'll make it. In about 40 minutes I can help you drag the prisoner, but now please give me back my weapon.”

“He'll go himself if he wants to live,” grumbled the Captain. It was obvious that he was relieved that I could walk on my own.

Hauptmann did want to live. I exchanged a few words with him, and it became clear to me that we've caught a very tasty fish. This German officer turned out to be a radio company commander in the communications battalion of the 125th Infantry Division, which we encountered near Uman right after our train was bombed. Now they were being transferred to the Kremenchuk bridgehead, and Hauptmann was on his way to the eastern shore to his first platoon, which had been transported here along with the division's advanced units the previous night.

It was about two hours before dawn. None of us doubted that the Germans would soon discover that their officer was missing, and we tried not to lose time. The gagged German walked obediently, crawled when necessary, ran when necessary. The Captain occasionally glanced at me warily, seeming to think I was holding on solely by sheer force of will, for I looked very bad when they took me out of the boat. In fact, I was feeling better by the minute. I knew that if we made it to our troops, the ideal would be for me to give up and get 24 hours of uninterrupted sleep, but I highly doubted I would be allowed that luxury.

The Germans got worried about 20 minutes after we left the shore. At first their reaction was rather sluggish and routine. Well, the boat was delayed for some reason. Maybe the loading was delayed, or they were waiting for someone. Nevertheless, the vigilant Oberleutnant in charge of receiving the reinforcements questioned the soldiers who were the last to arrive and quickly found out that the Hauptmann's boat set out without delay, but they did not meet the boat on the way.

Patrols dispatched along the shore did not find the boat as the scouts pushed it into the water and it sailed downstream, soon jutting into the shore of a small island not occupied by the Germans. The Oberleutnant immediately reported the incident to his superiors, and the latter, realizing how knowledgeable the missing officer was, took drastic measures.

The sky above the neutral strip flashed with dozens of 'chandeliers'. The Germans did not spare flares and rockets. The enemy was well aware that we still needed to get the captured officer through the front lines, and no one was going to make it easy for us.

“Maybe we should have left by boat?” Ignatov said quietly, looking at the illumination, “we would have gone down the river about five kilometers, and maybe it would have been calmer there. Well, we would have come out not in our division zone, but at the cavalrymen's, what difference does it make?”

“We wouldn't have made it before dawn,” objected Shcheglov, “and what's there to reason about now…”

We managed to get to the ravine, through which we squeezed between the German positions on the way to the Dnieper, without any adventures. The density of troops deep in the beachhead was not as high as at the front, and we managed to avoid encounters with German patrols and columns, taking advantage of the darkness and bad weather.

Remizov was about to move forward to lead the group through the mined area, but I stopped him, putting my hand on his shoulder.

“There's an ambush, Comrade Captain.”

“Do they know this is where we're going?”

“More likely, the Germans just put out an extra listening post due to the announced alarm, but there are five or six of them – we won't get through quietly.”

“Shall we use knives?”

“No way. There are observers above, they will immediately notice our attack.”

“That's not good.”

“Give me a minute, Comrade Captain,” I asked, sinking to the grass.

The scouts stood silent, trying not to move. Even Hauptmann fell silent, unable to understand what was going on, while I carefully examined the front line and the no man's land between our trenches and the German trenches. What a pity we don't have a radio station… Now we could really use a diversionary attack or a heavy artillery strike on German positions, or better both. I'll have to be sure to take care of that in the future, if, of course, there is a future for us.

The Germans approached the execution of the received order with their usual punctuality. If there had been gaps between their positions before, now they were tightly covered by a dense network of posts. It'll be light in about 40 minutes, and if we're not out of here by then, we're dead. The infantry will comb the bridgehead, look under every bush and into every hole. They will find us, there is no doubt.

“That's a dead end, Comrade Captain,” I shook my head as I opened my eyes, “all the loopholes in the immediate vicinity are caulked up tight.”

“I have a last resort,” the Captain's voice sounded doubtful, ”a red and two white rockets. The Division Commander gave me permission to use this signal if we were returning with really valuable booty. Our troops will go on the attack, moving toward us, but the chances of success are still slim, and probably dozens of people will die in such an attack.”

I thought about it. There are five of us here, but someone will have to stay with the Hauptmann, so four of us can act. We are all armed with automatic weapons, and the German machine-gun position is a hundred meters in front of us. If we take this position, the enemy defense in this area will not collapse, of course, but it will be noticeably disrupted. The question is, how long can we last…

“Comrade Captain, I have an idea, but the risk is very high.”

“You want to seize the machine gun, Nagulin?" grinned the Captain crookedly, "I can see it in your eyes.”

I nodded silently.

“If we're going to die, at least we'll have fun,” Sergeant Ignatov said quietly.

“Remizov, you are responsible for the prisoner. Keep an eye on him and let him lie with his face in the ground, or he'll catch an accidental bullet and all will be for nothing. Follow us at a distance of 20 meters. Do not go into the trenches until we have cleared them of the enemy. Then you make a dash toward us and take cover immediately.”

“Copy that!”

“Nagulin, can you fight with your injury?”

“I'm fine now, Comrade Captain.”

“Well, lead the way, Junior Lieutenant, we'll start the knife action.”

* * *

Although the Germans had sounded the alarm, they still did not send all their personnel into the trenches in the middle of the night. They strengthened the posts, sent out patrols, but still, soldiers sometimes need to sleep, especially if they have to go into battle again tomorrow. The Germans successfully chose a place for their machine-gun position. The ravine, which stretched from east to west, cut in half a low hill, but it was not even a hill, just a flat knoll. Nevertheless, this height still provided control over the immediate area. The Germans did not dig trenches on the very top, so as not to loom in front of the Russians against the bright sky in the daytime, they descended a little lower, toward the no man's land, and set up a machine-gun nest almost on the edge of the ravine. On the right, a steep and slippery slope protected the machine gunners; it was extremely uncomfortable to be attacked, and on the left the main position of their platoon was located. This seemed reasonable in terms of defense against the enemy who was advancing from the east, but for us, especially given my capabilities, the situation looked different. We were moving from the west, from the German rear, and we could approach the enemy's position unnoticed, using the ridge as cover.

The German sentinel observers, invigorated by the uproar, were serving faithfully. One soldier stood behind the machine gun, the other strode around the trench, occasionally glancing both ahead, to the east, and west, in our direction. The third, and what I assumed to be the most dangerous, was the Feldwebel – sergeant major, who was closely inspecting the terrain in front of the position through binoculars. The trenches and passages zigzagged further to the left, and there were observers in them too, and quite a few of them. An entire squad served as a combat guard, one-third of the entire personnel, and to the left the section of the next platoon started, and there were a lot of soldiers there, too.

The Germans launched rockets and "chandeliers" of flare mines so that first of all, the no man's strip and the first line of our trenches were clearly visible. They did not want to illuminate their own rear, not wanting to make life easy for the Russian artillerymen and mortar men who were taking rare disturbing fire. Nevertheless, they still left the observer behind the crest of the hill, realizing that the Russian saboteurs would move from the second line of their defense. This soldier sat quietly in a small trench on the back slope of the hill, thinking it was almost impossible to see him in the dark. He died just as quietly – I had shown the Captain the position of this enemy beforehand.

Shcheglov gave the command to start the assault when the German trenches were only 20 meters away. This time I didn't take any chances and chose the Feldwebel rather than a soldier behind the machine gun as my first target. A knife that flew in from the darkness entered the German under his left shoulder blade, and he fell forward onto the parapet from behind which he had been watching. The binoculars gleamed in the glow of another "chandelier" and slid down the slope into the darkness below. As it did so, it made a rather loud bang, but it didn't matter – the machine gunner had already noticed the danger, so he became my second target.

20 meters is still a lot for a knife, especially if the target is not attached to the ground. The German dodged it! I don't think he had time to react to my knife throw. Rather, the fate of the Feldwebel told him the only correct course of action. The machine gunner ducked and crouched at the bottom of the trench, and the knife jingled loudly against the MG-34 mounting. The situation was corrected by Ignatov, who had already managed to overcome the distance to the German trench and jumped on the back of the enemy, who had begun to straighten up. I couldn't see how he handled the German, but it didn't take the Sergeant more than a couple of seconds.

Shcheglov and Nikiforov wasted no time either, they were busy working on their goals. There were no Germans left alive at the machine-gun position, but we could not do everything quietly, and the sounds that reached the neighboring trenches made the Germans wary.

A few sharp commands rang out, and some movement began in the trenches of the neighboring squad.

“Throw grenades into the ravine, quickly!” ordered Shcheglov, not forgetting about the Germans sitting in ambush.

I ripped a grenade from my belt, unpinned it and threw the F-1 over the edge of the ravine. I wasn't interested in its fate – I finally jumped into the trench and got to the machine gun. At the same time as the first long burst hit the left side of the enemy trenches and passageways, flares – two white and one red – flew up into the air behind me with a hiss.

A little ahead I saw flashes of gunfire and heard the distinctive crackle of PPSh submachine guns – my comrades had also opened fire. I distracted myself for a second, trying to figure out where we were most threatened. There was no movement in the ravine – our grenades seemed to have fallen well. The Hauptmann prisoner was lying at the bottom of the trench in a fetal position, and Remizov, standing above him, was firing his submachine gun toward the Germans.

The return fire now was still weak and inaccurate, but the enemy was quickly coming to his senses. The main thing that made me very unhappy was some kind of sluggish reaction to our signal on the Soviet side. I couldn't say nothing was going on there, but I wasn't seeing intense preparation for an attack there yet.

When I turned my attention back to the Germans, I saw a very unpleasant picture. The platoon whose position we were attacking had two more machine guns besides my MG-34, and now they were turning toward us. The machine gunners weren't firing yet, for fear of hitting their soldiers in the dark, but I knew that very soon they would figure it out and open devastating fire on us. Another serious problem was the dugout in the second line of trenches. It seemed to be where the rest of the soldiers of the platoon were sleeping, and now they were actively moving, leaving the shelter and obviously coming to visit us.

I heard Shcheglov's command: “Don't let them within grenade throwing distance!”

This command directly concerned me, too, but first I had to do something about the machine guns and the infantry rushing in. I took my last grenade off my belt. The Germans jumping out of the dugout were 80 meters away. Some of the soldiers were already out of the trenches, and some of them were still just leaving the shelter. I chose the trajectory so that the fuse burned out while still in the air, and the grenade exploded over the Germans' heads. It's hard to make a good grenade throw from a trench, but combat mode can do much more than that. My shoulder was sore – after all, my body hadn't fully recovered from the boat ride, and now the bio-implants had to strain my muscles again.

I had no time to follow the flight and explosion of the grenade. I picked up my MG-34 again and found the positions of the German machine gunners. They oriented themselves to the situation and opened heavy fire over the heads of their infantry, trying to pin the Russian saboteurs to the ground. Two short bursts silenced them, but the enemy had an overwhelming advantage over us even without machine guns.

A series of explosions rumbled about 50 meters from us, somewhere in the middle between the first and second lines of German trenches, it was a Soviet mortar battery that opened fire. That was great, but what we needed now was something else entirely – a quick attack on the section of the German platoon that we had disorganized, while simultaneously suppressing its neighbors to the right and left with artillery fire.

The night battle was spreading like wildfire. The Soviet mortar men's strike was immediately countered by their German counterparts. A little later the artillery got involved in the battle. The density of German fire increased as more and more enemy soldiers approached the battlefield. I tried my best to regulate their numbers with a machine gun, but the winding passages allowed the Germans to get closer and closer. Soon I was concentrating only on the most dangerous targets, namely, enemy soldiers already ready to throw a grenade. The consequence of my efforts was several explosions right in the enemy's battle lines – the grenade throwers I killed or wounded blew themselves up together with their own comrades. This somewhat dampened the ardor of the German infantry, but it cannot be said that our prospects became brighter – the Red Army soldiers from our trenches still did not rise to the attack.

“We have to get out of here, Nagulin!” I heard the voice of Shcheglov, who had been pushed back by the Germans along with Ignatov and Nikiforov almost to my position, “Looks like there won't be an attack!”

“If we get out of the trenches, we will be cut down at once, or destroyed by mortars in the field,” I shouted back without stopping to shoot.

“We're sure to get crushed here, but this way we'll have at least a chance!”

“Take the prisoner and retreat through the ravine! I'll cover you with machine gun fire. You will have a two or three minute head start.”

Shcheglov did not answer anything, but fiercely let out a long burst from his PPSh, slightly elevating over the parapet, and then shouted out: “Fighters, follow me! We're pulling back! Take care of the prisoner!”

This order did not apply to me. Shcheglov did not say any solemn words and preferred not to say goodbye at all, for which I was very grateful to him.

The Germans were lingering. They were still confident that the Russians weren't going anywhere and were pulling up their forces for another attack. I managed to reload my machine gun before the group left, and now I had a hundred rounds to spare, but I still would not have been able to withstand a simultaneous attack from different sides.

To the right, beyond the ravine, there were enemy soldiers, too, but they did not fire yet, for fear of hitting their own, while at the same time, they did not want to climb the mined slopes in the dark. The view from orbit showed the utter hopelessness of the situation. The Germans would have launched a decisive attack had it not been for the rather intense mortar and artillery fire from the Soviet side, but for now they waited out the artillery preparations.

The night's darkness was broken by an eerie howl. The ground shook violently and tons of earth, illuminated by a bright flash, rose into the air a hundred meters to my right. Seconds later a similar fire geyser rose among the German trenches on the left. The howling continued, and I think I now understood what our infantry were waiting for. The command of the Southwestern Front finally realized that the Kremenchuk bridgehead could pose a significant threat, and it allocated to the 38th Army from its scarce reserves an artillery regiment of the Reserve of the Supreme High Command, which included a B-4 howitzer division.

The three minutes I had promised Shcheglov were over, and if I wanted to keep walking on this planet, I had to act immediately – there could be no better moment. I fired a long burst from the machine gun, using up the rest of my belt. My bullets didn't hit any of my opponents, but I hoped it made them think twice about whether they should stick out from behind the parapet right now.

A few steps behind me there was a ravine, and in a second I was rolling down the slippery slope, twisting and tumbling so as not to run into the mines that were not too densely laid by the Germans. The 203 millimeter "suitcases" continued to howl in the sky, unleashing the wrath of the gods of war on the German trenches, and in between bursts a resounding "Hurrah!" could be heard from our trenches – the Red Army men of the 300th Division had gone on the attack after all.

The artillery preparation stopped, and I climbed up from the muddy bottom of the ravine. The Germans in the trenches were now clearly not interested in me. It wasn't yet dawn, but the sky was beginning to lighten, and I was going to take advantage of the last minutes of limited visibility to get to our trenches.

Our infantry went on the attack, firing on the run. It was their fight, and I had done my job for the day. No one paid attention to the fighter in the camouflage robe, covered in mud, who ran to the rear.

About halfway through, I was stopped by a senior lieutenant with a pistol in his hand.

“Are you a scout? From Captain Shcheglov's company?”

“Yes, Comrade Senior Lieutenant. Returning from the mission.”

“You need to go a hundred meters to the right,” the officer shouted on the run, “All your guys are already there. The division commander himself is meeting you.”

Chapter 4

When I jumped into the trench like a dirty ghost, the division commander's guards immediately pointed their PPSh submachine guns at me, but I had no weapons in my hands, and the Red Army men relaxed slightly.

“Are you Junior Lieutenant Nagulin?” asked Kuznetsov, looking at me with interest.

“That's right, Comrade Colonel,” I tried to stand at attention and raised my hand to my cap.

“At ease, scout. Did you cover the retreat of the group?”

“That's right, Comrade Colonel.”

“You're lucky to be back. I was beginning to think that Shcheglov's platoon was once again without a commander.”

“Junior Lieutenant Nagulin is not so easy to kill, Comrade Colonel,” the Captain grinned wearily, “many have tried…”

“Don't jinx it,” the Colonel smiled faintly as he looked at Shcheglov. “Did he get the prisoner for interrogation, too?”

“Yes, he did, Comrade Colonel,” nodded the Captain. “He captured a boat carrying a German officer across the Dnieper, killed the soldiers who were rowing and the Feldwebel, and stunned the Hauptmann. He was wounded in the fight, but remained in the ranks.”

“Wounded?” Kuznetsov turned to me again.

“Slightly, Comrade Colonel, I got a knife in my shoulder. The arm moves normally.”

“I know you, heroes! Take the Junior Lieutenant to the infirmary, quickly! Captain, I give you and your men one hour to clean up. You will go to the army headquarters together with the head of the special department of the division. You got the prisoner for interrogation yourself – you will deliver it to the destination, and I have enough to do in the meantime,” the division commander looked toward the German trenches, from where the sounds of gunfire and grenade explosions could be heard. “And take Nagulin with you, if the medics let him go.”

* * *

It took us about an hour to get to the 38th Army headquarters. The German prisoner was sullenly silent, sitting in the back of a lorry between two men from the NKVD platoon. The five of us settled in the same place, and Major Gunko, head of the Special Department of the 300th Division, took a seat in the cabin.

“Comrade Captain, the Germans will start an attack any day now. They have almost everything ready,” I started working on Shcheglov as soon as we hit the road.

“With what? Infantry? Did you see a single tank or self-propelled gun on the bridgehead?”

“I've seen something more unpleasant, and I've heard even more. The enemy pulled a huge number of pontoons to Kremenchuk and is stockpiling materials to build a bridge capable of supporting heavy equipment.”

“Are you kidding me, Junior Lieutenant? More than a kilometer of pontoons! They'll be working on it for two weeks, if they can do anything at all. Our troops will not sleep either – they will bomb that bridge without regard for any losses.”

“Here he is,” I nodded at the Hauptmann, “confirming to me that he saw a large accumulation of means of passage on the shore and the ever arriving units of sappers.”

“And the tanks?” Shcheglov was still hesitant, “had he seen tanks?”

“The German didn't say anything about tanks, but that just means they haven't arrived yet. The Germans will not build such a grand crossing for the infantry, Comrade Captain! They're already handling the transfer of infantry divisions to the bridgehead, you've seen it.”

“Yes, I've seen it,” Shcheglov agreed.

“Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow they will erect a crossing. Because of the un-flying weather, no one will be able to stop them, and our headquarters won't even know anything about it. And then several tank divisions will be on the Kremenchuk bridgehead in one night, and in the morning they will strike. Can the 300th Rifle Division withstand an attack by hundreds of tanks? There will be hundreds of them only in our defense zone, but they will strike our neighbors as well.”

Listening to me, Shcheglov grew darker and darker. It was felt that he wanted to object, but the Captain restrained himself. Nevertheless, after I stopped talking, he didn't answer right away.

“I have known you for a long time, Junior Lieutenant,” Shcheglov said at last, choosing his words carefully, “and you have never panicked without reason. But what you say… They won't believe it at the headquarters. You have too little evidence. Did Hauptmann see any tanks? He didn't see them. Have you seen the finished bridge or at least part of it? You haven't seen it! Everything else is just your guess. And even if I believe it's right, it doesn't change anything. No one is going to make decisions based on the fantasies of a captain and a junior lieutenant.”

I understood that Shcheglov was right, but I could not leave the situation as it was.

“Comrade Captain, can you make sure that the army headquarters at least listens to my report?”

“I don't know, Nagulin. I don't know! Who am I? Captain, commander of the reconnaissance company of the 300th Division. And there's a major general, the army commander! Do you think Feklenko will listen to my requests? Well, okay, let it not be Feklenko personally, but Chief of Staff Simvolokov, so he, too, is a major general. It is not certain that we will be allowed into the headquarters at all, and not limited to being questioned in the Special Department.”

“So we'll have to report at whatever level we can get to. Maybe we should talk to our head of the Special Department first?”

“To Gunko?” Shcheglov shook his head doubtfully, “I don't know. He's a normal guy, on the whole. And he knows his service, but he can hardly help us in such a case. It's the first time he's seen you. What if your assumption is wrong? That would be misinformation! He won't want to take that responsibility.”

It looked like I had only to rely on chance, but if it presented itself, I wasn't going to let it pass me by.

“Comrade Captain, I have a suggestion, but we can't carry out this plan ourselves, without help from above.”

* * *

Stalin stood up leisurely, left his desk, and walked around the office, clutching an unlit pipe in his hand. He stopped, cast a keen eye over the people assembled in the office, and spoke, pausing for a few moments between words:

“The commander of the Southern Front, General Tyulenev showed himself in the battles near Uman from the worst side. He knows neither how to attack, nor how to organize a competent withdrawal of troops. Tyulenev lost two armies where it would have been a disgrace to lose two regiments. I have already suggested to Comrade Budyonny to deal with this situation personally, and, as far as I know, an investigation has been conducted. I read the preliminary reports. Tyulenev tries to shift all responsibility for the loss of the armies to Army Commanders Ponedelin and Muzychenko, but there is an opinion that this is only an attempt at self-justification. What do you, comrades, think about this issue?”

“Let me say, Comrade Stalin,” the People's Commissar of Internal Affairs took the floor.

“I'm listening to you, Comrade Beria.”

“General Tyulenev undoubtedly made a number of miscalculations, which had grave consequences and cast doubt on his competence, as commander of the front. However, the investigation found no signs of treason in his actions. Tyulenev was seriously wounded in the battles near Dnepropetrovsk, and now the question of his evacuation to Moscow for treatment is being decided.”

“I know that, Comrade Beria. And what can you say about the role of Generals Muzychenko and Ponedelin in the deaths of the 6th and 12th Armies?”

“The Southern Front command entrusted Ponedelin to lead the breakthrough of encircled armies from the Uman battlefield. Without trying to absolve him of the blame for the failure of the operation, I am forced to clarify that the leadership of the Southern Front did not notify the encircled troops about the change in the situation and the fact that the 18th Army had left Pervomaysk. Therefore, the tasks that Ponedelin set for the strike groups, could not provide a real breakthrough of the encirclement ring, even if successfully accomplished.”

“But Muzychenko made it through. So there was an opportunity.”

“Lieutenant General Muzychenko did not have the task of leading his army out of the encirclement, Comrade Stalin. Ponedelin fully concentrated in his hands the leadership of the operation. Muzychenko was ordered to reach the Southern Front troops and coordinate their actions with the efforts of the encircled armies. He accomplished the first part of the task, even though our troops were no longer at Pervomaysk, and his column had to break through further. But there was nobody to coordinate efforts with – all strike groups of Ponedelin were defeated, and the commander of the 12th Army himself surrendered, and now the Germans are scattering this over the positions of our troops by planes,” Beria took a leaflet out of the folder and put it on the table.

Stalin picked up this piece of paper. A photograph in which General Ponedelin stood surrounded by German officers, framed by text, was printed on it.

“The Germans urge the Red Army men to surrender, Comrade Stalin, and they cite Ponedelin as an example. All the signs of betrayal are there. The commander of the 12th Army could not organize the breakthrough, delayed the decision to start it, and did not find the strength to complete his duty to the Soviet Motherland.”

Stalin looked at the leaflet for a while, then put it aside and looked around again.

“I think everything with Ponedelin is very clear, comrades. There is an opinion that the traitor should be tried and given a fair sentence according to the strictest wartime standards. Although he is a prisoner of war, the Military Collegium of the Supreme Court can sentence him in absentia. This will be a good lesson for cowards and deserters running to the enemy.”

Beria nodded and made a note in his notebook.

“And what do you think, comrades, about the fate of the commander of the Sixth Army, General Muzychenko?”

“Allow me to speak now, Comrade Stalin,” Budyonny asked to speak, and, after waiting for the leader's approving nod, he continued, “Muzychenko did his job, and he did it well. He carried out the orders he received. His headquarters reached our troops in almost full force. He carried the banner of the Sixth Army out of the pocket. The breakthrough from the encirclement took place in an organized manner and caused serious damage to the enemy in manpower and equipment. I saw pictures of the defeated German unit that was chasing the headquarters column, there are plenty of other episodes, for which, in other circumstances, both the commander and many of his subordinates would have been rewarded. He did not decide on the direction and timing of the breakthrough of the main forces – so he should not be responsible for it.”

Stalin lifted his pipe to his lips thoughtfully and began to walk around the office again.

“There is one more important point, Comrade Stalin,” Beria spoke again, “Comrade Budyonny very correctly described the purely military part of the matter, but there is also a moral-political side to this problem. The breakthrough of the staff column, along with the banner and the commander, gives us the opportunity to re-form the Sixth Army, and we have every right to assert internationally that we lost only General Ponedelin's army in the pocket. A total of almost 15,000 men broke out of the encirclement near Uman. They can become the basis on which to recreate the army of Muzychenko.”

“I will support you in this matter, Comrade Beria," Stalin nodded, taking his seat at the table again. Invite Lieutenant-General Muzychenko to see me, and consider what else, except a show trial of the former commander Ponedelin, we can do to prevent cases of cowardice and treason in the leadership of our armies.”

* * *

The Hauptmann was immediately taken away for interrogation at headquarters, but we were also immediately spoken to because we had just returned from the near German rear. A representative of the army headquarters marked on the map what we managed to see at the Kremenchuk bridgehead.

“Here, here and here, we saw some pretty big dugouts,” I showed the officer. “Most likely, they are warehouses. What is stored in them, we couldn't find out – the task was different.”

The lieutenant colonel was nodding and marking, and Shcheglov was looking at me sideways, but did not interfere. He didn't see any dugouts himself, although I mentioned them a couple of times.

“There are temporary piers on the shore, which are apparently camouflaged and not used during the day. We saw such landing points in two places, here and here,” I pointed again on the map.

“The Germans built a pontoon bridge to this island. There is a continuous movement of equipment and troops through it.”

“Where did this data come from?” The Lieutenant Colonel took his eyes off the map and looked at me carefully. “You weren't there, Junior Lieutenant.”

“I was relatively close by when I grabbed Hauptmann's boat and heard the creaking of the boardwalk and the sound of truck engines, approaching from the west bank. You can check with the prisoner, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel. He must know this bridge exists – he drove over it before he got on the boat.”

The staff officer nodded, made a note on the map and put a question mark next to it.

“Anything else, Junior Lieutenant?”

“Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, we saw that the Germans have well established the crossing to the bridgehead of infantry units and even light artillery. They do this with boats and rafts, and do just fine without a bridge for this purpose. Nevertheless, the field interrogation of the prisoner showed that engineering units were accumulating on the west bank, as well as everything necessary to build a high-capacity pontoon crossing. Such a bridge can only be needed for tanks and other heavy equipment, which means that the Germans are preparing to move tank divisions to the Kremenchuk bridgehead… ”

“Junior Lieutenant,” the staff officer interrupted me, “so far these are just your fantasies. Do you have any proof of what you say?”

“Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, allow me to report,” Shcheglov intervened.

“I'm listening to you.”

“We have only preliminary observations. We were performing another task and could not be distracted by anything else. To get evidence of the Germans preparing a crossing for tanks, additional reconnaissance is needed.”

“So do the reconnaissance, Captain. You're in command of the reconnaissance company, so you're in charge.”

“The problem is that even if we find evidence of Junior Lieutenant Nagulin's words, the army won't have time to do anything. With the equipment that the Germans have already deployed to build the crossing, they will manage to build the bridge in a few days, if not a day, and then they will move the tanks to the bridgehead in one night.”

“Captain, you seem to have caught your subordinate's fantasies,” grinned the Lieutenant Colonel, but he continued to look at us very carefully. “I don't understand what you want from me yet.”

“Ten minutes of your time, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel. We are ready to lay out a plan for a reconnaissance and sabotage raid, but we're going to need artillery support.”

“Don't you have an artillery regiment in your division, Captain? Why do you turn to a representative of the army headquarters for this?”

“Because only Army HQ has howitzers that can reach the targets we need and suppress them reliably. I'm talking about B-4, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel.”

* * *

“Well, Vitaly Nikolayevich, has the Special Department interrogated the German prisoner?” The commander of the 38th Army turned to the Chief of Staff who entered the room.

“That's right, Nikolai Vladimirovich, and not only him. The scouts from the 300th Division who took the Hauptmann also saw something. Lieutenant Colonel Semenov interviewed them and mapped the data and the latest changes in the situation. Here, take a look.”

Major General Feklenko leaned over the map unfolded on the table by the Chief of Staff.

“Guderian still advanced,” the army commander stated grimly, looking at the blue arrows of German Panzer Group strikes stretching from the north, “It is now obvious that he wants to encircle the entire Southwestern Front. But I see that his advance has slowed down, so let's hope his tanks don't stab us in the back.”

“Our troops are entrenched in the area of Nizhyn and Romny,” replied the Chief of Staff without much confidence in his voice, “and from the east the Bryansk front of Eryomenko strikes against the Germans who have broken through. We will hold them, Comrade Commander of the Army.”

“All right, Vitaly Nikolayevich, let's get back to the business of our army. What do we have here? A bridge from the west bank to Ulitochnyi Island?”

“That's right. At night the scouts heard sounds characteristic of vehicles crossing the pontoon bridge, and the German prisoner confirmed this information. This bridge is light, tanks will not pass through, and there is no crossing from the island to our shore yet either.”

“Do you know the exact coordinates of the bridge?”

“The prisoner was unable to specify them. He was being transported at night by truck, and the scout who managed to get relatively close did not see the crossing at all, he heard only the sound of engines.”

“That's bad. What about the weather? Will the aviation be able to work? The bridge must be destroyed as soon as possible.”

“The weather is no good, Nikolai Vladimirovich. Low clouds and rain. Aviators don't expect improvement for another couple of days.”

“We're like blind men,” Feklenko grumbled unhappily, “at least the scouts brought this Hauptmann, the map was updated at once. Is he from the 125th Infantry Division, by the way? So they're moving them from Uman to us too.”

“The Germans keep increasing the number of infantry on the bridgehead. The scouts also saw light artillery. It was being moved by boats from Ulitochnyi Island.”

“Well, we're getting stronger too,” Feklenko objected, “We did get some reserves, though it was a little late. We will not be able to eliminate the bridgehead, but now, if the Germans hit us with their infantry toward Guderian, we will hold them off. We must hold them.”

“And if they move tanks?” cautiously asked the chief of staff.

“How? Without a bridge, it is possible, of course, to deliver a few tanks to the bridgehead, but on the scale of the proposed offensive it is not serious.”

“The scouts insist that the Germans are preparing to build a large bridge. They have no proof, just vague premonitions, but during the interrogation the prisoner confirmed that he saw numerous engineer units on the west bank and a significant accumulation of pontoons and construction materials that could be used to build a crossing.”

The Army Commander thought about it.

“Well, okay, even so… What will they move over the bridge? Heavy artillery? They don't have any tanks here, not even on the west bank. As long as there was flying weather, air reconnaissance did not report enemy tank units.”

“I don't know, Nikolai Vladimirovich,” said the chief of staff, “But I can say one thing: if the Germans are going to build a bridge, it means they will have something to move over it.”

“You and me, Vitaly Nikolaevich, seem to be reading the tea-leaves,” the Army Commander shook his head.

“Lieutenant Colonel Semenov reported to me that a proposal was received from the scouts of the 300th Division. They want to go back to where they took the Hauptmann, but with other goals.”

“So let them operate. Such an operation does not require approval in the army headquarters,” Feklenko was surprised.

“They want to go on a raid for a few days and take a portable radio transmitter with them. They will sit on the bank of the river or on one of the small islands, and keep watch. If the Germans start building the crossing, they will report the exact coordinates of the bridge and offer to hit it with howitzers of special power. But to correct the fire they need to establish cooperation with the artillery regiment of the Reserve of the Supreme High Command, and no one will talk to them there without your order.”

“It's a big risk,” Feklenko hesitated, “To reach the Dnieper, the artillerymen would have to pull the B-4 howitzers almost to the very front line. As soon as they open fire, the Germans will start a counter-battery fight, and the artillerymen will have to shoot for a long time – it is not easy to hit at such a distance, even with the help of a spotter.”

“The commander of a separate reconnaissance company of the 300th Division, Captain Shcheglov, states that if Junior Lieutenant Nagulin corrects the fire, hits will follow quickly.”

“Is that so?” Sarcasm was clearly audible in the voice of the Army Commander. “And who is this Nagulin? A great artilleryman who went to serve in the intelligence service for some reason?”

“That's how I reacted when I heard about the plan, too,” the chief of staff shrugged. “But then… Anyway, just in case, I asked the Special Department what they had on this Nagulin.”

“And?” Feklenko was interested.

“He and Captain Shcheglov came to us from Lieutenant-General Muzychenko's Sixth Army; they broke out of the pocket as part of the staff column. There are no details, but it seems this Nagulin showed himself very well there. And, according to the officers of the Special Department, it was he who captured the Hauptmann by attacking the boat carrying the officer and by cutting off the guards.”

“Well, if he's so good, let the Captain write up a presentation to the award for him – he honestly deserves it. But that doesn't answer my question.”

“That's not all, Comrade Commander. A secret order came from the front's Special Department. I was introduced to it. The Junior Lieutenant, it turns out, is not so simple. Our Special Department officers were instructed to keep an eye on him, but not to touch him. It is specifically stated that Nagulin should not be hindered in his initiatives. Within reasonable limits, of course. He seems to have distinguished himself quite a bit there, near Uman. It was something that impressed even high NKVD officials. Many men from the Sixth Army arrived with the last reinforcements to the 300th Division. Major Gunko asked them some neat questions about Nagulin. Everyone claims that he is a great marksman, just phenomenal. And he hits with the same accuracy from any weapon, including anti-aircraft guns. They say Nagulin shot down several planes before their eyes.”

“Well, you can't believe all these stories unconditionally…” said Feklenko thoughtfully. “But it looks like he's really not an ordinary fighter. And I will not hide the fact that you, Vitaly Nikolayevich, have puzzled me quite a bit with this bridge for tanks. All right, Comrade Chief of Staff, prepare the order, I'll sign it. Let the scouts act, they will have howitzers of special power.”

Chapter 5

I slept the rest of the day off after returning to the division. Shcheglov and the rest of the raid participants were also able to rest, but it seems that I was the only one who managed to sleep for so long. Apparently, my comrades tried not to bother me, remembering my injury, even if it was necessary.

It was late in the evening when the Captain woke me up after all.

“Junior Lieutenant,” he said softly, touching my shoulder, “You and I are called to the division commander. Be ready in ten minutes.”

When we entered the staff dugout and Shcheglov reported our arrival, Colonel Kuznetsov nodded silently and pointed us to a bench by a large table, on which the maps were laid out.

“I don't know what your German was saying, but Army HQ got very nervous,” said the Colonel. “The Army Commander approved your initiative. I have received orders to give you every assistance in organizing a new reconnaissance raid, more profound than the previous one. Three divisions of B-4 howitzers of special power are involved in the operation. Tomorrow at dawn, go to the artillerymen to establish cooperation. You've been given a new type of radio transmitter from the army depot and an instructor to train your radio operators, Captain. You're going on a mission tomorrow night. By the morning I need a plan of the operation – the place of crossing the front line, the route of movement through the German rear, the time of communication sessions, in general, everything that is required in such cases. If you need divisional artillery assistance or demonstrative action in any area, indicate that, too. Any questions?”

“Negative,” Shcheglov replied, with a brief glance at me. “Permission to go prepare the operation plan, Comrade Colonel.”

“Go,”said the division commander, “I advise you to treat this case with the utmost care. You've made such a mess that if your raid turns out to be a flop…”

“We will approach the case with the utmost care!” the Captain answered clearly.

“Dismissed.”

* * *

In the end, I went alone to the artillerymen. Shcheglov was completely unnecessary there, and he had more than enough to do to organize the raid – in planning the operation we asked for so many things that Colonel Kuznetsov took off his cap and thoughtfully scratched the back of his head, as he read our suggestions, but, apparently, the order from the army headquarters was unambiguous, and Kuznetsov did not refuse us.

An artillery lieutenant met me and escorted me to Lieutenant Colonel Tsaitiuni. The commander of the artillery regiment listened to my report and grinned.

“Why didn't your captain come, Junior Lieutenant?” the Caucasian accent in the Lieutenant Colonel's speech was clearly audible, “I would have told him a lot of interesting things about artillery. He wants B-4, doesn't he? This is not a 45mm cannon, it cannot be rolled into position manually. Do you see what's happening to the weather? The ground is muddy. And I am ordered to get into position to fire on the Dnieper! That means forward to the front line. What if the Germans come forward? We'll all stay there, we won't even have time to pull the howitzers back from these positions.”

“Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, I can't discuss orders coming from the army headquarters – it's not my level,” I answered neutrally. “Captain Shcheglov is preparing a group for a raid behind enemy lines, so he could not come in person. And I'm the one who will be correcting your fire with the radio, that's why I'm here.”

“Have you ever worked as a spotter, Junior Lieutenant?”

“I haven't,” I answered honestly, “but I have theoretical training.”

“Well, then you'll correct us…”

“Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, I have very good eyesight and trained hearing. I am also good at math, which is why I was assigned this task. I can give targeting in rectangular coordinates with sufficient accuracy, but, there is another option. If you let me work directly with the gun crews, we can greatly increase the accuracy of fire and reduce the number of sighting shots.”

“How's that, Junior Lieutenant?”

“I myself can calculate sight, level, and deflection settings, as well as topographic range with adjustments for ballistic and meteorological conditions and derivation. Having in mind the required type of charge, of course.”

“So…" Tsaitiuni hemmed, "You know clever words, but you're talking obvious nonsense. How can you calculate all this from an observation post in close proximity to the target?”

“If I know the exact coordinates of each howitzer, I can. Moreover, if you let me see the tables of individual corrections for each howitzer, let me make excerpts from them, and check the internal condition of the barrels, the accuracy of firing will be even higher.”

“I don't believe it! This is just sickening nonsense, Junior Lieutenant! I don't know what you told your captain, and he told the division commander, and the division commander told the Army Commander, but if the operation is planned on the basis of this verbiage… I will not put the howitzers of special power under fire from German field artillery for the sake of these nonsense!”

“Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, allow me to make a little demonstration. A day ago I visited the German rear, and there our group discovered, among other things, one very promising dugout, which for all intents and purposes looked like a field ammunition or fuel depot. It was at night and we didn't get a good look at it, but I made a mark on the map and remembered the coordinates. If you let me work with the crew of one of the B-4s, I will calculate all the necessary data for firing and report to the gunners. You have a telephone connection to the front line, and we can have someone at the nearest regimental observation post to look in the right direction. The warehouse is eight and a half kilometers from the first line of German trenches, but if it stores ammunition or fuel, the result of the hit should be quite visible from the regimental observation post.”

The artillery regiment commander pondered my suggestion for about ten seconds, looking at me from his considerable height.

“Three shells, Junior Lieutenant,” he finally squeezed out irritably, taking the map out of his clipboard, “Where's the warehouse?”

* * *

The division commander, Senior Lieutenant Biryukov, escorted me to the howitzer position allocated by the Lieutenant Colonel to check my words. He looked skeptically at the visiting scout who tried to pretend to be an artilleryman.

“Comrade Senior Lieutenant, the gun is camouflaged and ready to fire,” the crew leader reported to Biryukov. “On your orders, we're finishing setting up a backup position 300 meters from here at the edge of the forest.”

“Staff Sergeant, assemble your crew. You are temporarily under the command of Junior Lieutenant Nagulin, for exactly three shots from your gun. I'll be there too, but I won't interfere. Do it!”

“Copy that!” Biryukov's subordinate turned to me, “Comrade Junior Lieutenant, B-4 howitzer commander Staff Sergeant Ilyin. What are the orders?”

“First of all, Staff Sergeant, show me your gun.”

It took me about ten minutes to go over the whole position, look in the barrel of the howitzer, look through the correction table, then I asked the Senior Lieutenant if the regiment had the latest weather data, and after that I went to pick out shells for firing.

As I approached the charges stacked in the crates under the canopy and began to take them out one by one, weighing them in my hands, the Sergeant and Senior Lieutenant looked at me with a sneer mingled with wariness.

“These, Comrade Staff Sergeant,” I put aside the selected charges.

My next target was actually high-explosive shells. When I approached them, the grin on the Lieutenant's face became a little more obvious – I was not distinguished by a powerful physique, and the shell weighed a hundred kilograms.

I bent down and lifted the projectile, shook it from side to side, rotated it several times along its axis, giving the computer a chance to assess the mass distribution and the suitability of the ammunition for accurate shooting. From the corner of my eye, I watched the grin slip off the Lieutenant's face, and the crew leader shook his head respectfully.

Two shells I rejected, and the three selected shells I put aside next to the charges.

I turned to the Staff Sergeant. “You will shoot in this exact sequence. Load it up!”

I gave the crew leader the data to set the sight, the deflection, and the level, and the gunners loaded the howitzer with rote movements, and the piston bolt clanked loudly, locking the barrel's channel.

“The gun is ready to fire!” reported Ilyin, having reeled off 20 meters of rope tied to the trigger handle.

The Lieutenant and I were descending into a small trench when the buzzer of the field telephone mounted in it sounded.

“Comrade Colonel informs that the observers at the regimental observation post are ready,” reported a private first class on duty at the station.

The Senior Lieutenant gave me a questioning look, and I turned to the crew leader.

“Fire!”

I covered my ears with my hands and opened my mouth to soften the impact of the sound wave, but the effect of the B-4 shot still exceeded my expectations. A howitzer of special power is not a very humane thing for one's own crew.

The Sergeant went about loading the gun, while the Senior Lieutenant and I had no choice but to wait. I closed my eyes and watched the flight of the shell with interest. The computer was drawing a dotted line of projected trajectory, and it was obvious that it would not be an exact hit, but the result was still not bad.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Примечания

1

A Panzer Group is an operational large formation, which would more commonly be called a tank army. This term was used in the armed forces of Nazi Germany during World War II. The Panzer Group had up to a thousand tanks, combined into two or four corps. In total the Panzer Group consisted of up to five tank divisions, three or four motorized divisions, and up to six infantry divisions.

Back