IT WAS IN THE early hours of the morning that they reached the village. The place looked deserted from a distance – snow had piled up against doorways and obscured paths – but they had learned hard lessons in other villages and towns that had appeared to be uninhabited. The infantry scouts dismounted and made their way forward. They would reconnoitre before the tanks exposed themselves to narrow streets and overhanging windows.
They found no Germans – although it was as though the inhabitants had just gone out to fetch something, and might be back at any moment. In some houses the tables were set for a meal. In others the fireplaces were filled with wood and kindling, needing only a match to flame into life. The sense of calm didn’t extend to every house, however. Some had been broken into, the contents ransacked. Lapshin had them park their tanks in front of the steepled church and posted sentries on the village outskirts while they waited for Headquarters to tell them what to do next.
‘We’ll be here for a while, with luck. So take the chance to warm up. Make some food. Have a wash, if you’re so inclined.’ Lapshin smiled, his teeth white in his smudged face. ‘But leave the engines running – just in case. One man from each crew stays on watch with their tank. Understood?’
The house they chose hadn’t even been locked – the owners had left the key in the door. They found a ham in the larder and a sack half full of potatoes. Polya lit the stove and put water on to boil. She stretched. Then scratched. They could all do with a wash.
Upstairs she could hear Avdeyev moving from room to room, looking for his souvenirs. All she wanted to do was lie down in a bed and sleep – she could barely keep her eyes open, she was so tired. But she was hungry too.
There was water in the tap and so she washed her face and hands with a piece of American soap Lapshin had found for her at Headquarters, surprised to see her own pink skin coming through the grime.
‘Well, Polya?’
She turned to see Lapshin leaning against the doorway, and though he smiled at her, even in the candlelight she could see that he was just the same as she was – exhausted.
‘Will we have time to sleep?’ she asked.
‘They may ask us to push on.’ He ran his hands up and down his grime-shiny tunic. ‘I thought I had some cigarettes.’
‘I have some,’ she said, offering him the cigarette case in her pocket as though it were her heart.
‘Good girl. Thanks.’
When Avdeyev came back down he had two summer dresses slung across his arm and a pair of women’s shoes.
‘For Katya,’ he said, smiling. ‘Unless you want them, Polya?’
She imagined herself wearing the dress after the war, walking beside a riverbank – a towel under her arm – going for a swim. It was a foolish thought. She shook her head.
‘Not for me, brother. Parcel them up for Katya – there’s paper in the sitting room. I saw it on the desk.’
She turned away to tend to the food, rubbing a hand over her eyes to take the moistness out of them. She was just tired, that was all. Her arms ached and her back ached and her head was out of sorts. There was a comfortable chair in the corner but if she sat down in it, she’d never get up.
‘You look the worse for wear, Little Polya.’
Lapshin had come to stand beside her, washing his hands in the sink then dipping down to wet his face.
‘You don’t look the best yourself, Comrade Senior Lieutenant.’
Lapshin scrubbed at his cheeks and chin – but he was just moving the dirt around. She passed him the soap.
‘The men won’t recognize me.’
She smiled and he took it from her.
‘Only a short time now, Polya, I think,’ he said as he began to wash his face once more.
‘Till when?’
‘Till the end. All we have to do is last a little while longer. Then we can go back home – pat ourselves on the back for a job well done and forget all about it.’
‘That would be nice.’
She tried to smile, but her lower lip had a mind of its own, and she could feel it curling over on itself.
The shame – a tear rolled down her cheek.
Lapshin reached over and smudged it away, his thumb gently pushing her mouth up into a smile as he did so. His brown eyes, so kind and true, looked into hers. Right down into her soul.
‘We’ll see this war out together, Little Polya,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You and me. And then we’ll talk. Maybe we’ll see out more than just this war? What do you say?’
She could say nothing. Except that her hand had reached up, of its own accord, and taken his. Now his fingers were wrapped around hers. She sucked at her teeth, getting some air into her chest – because if she didn’t she might pass out.
‘Well?’
‘We’ll see,’ she said. She wanted to say more, a lot more – but her chest was too tight. There was no air in her for words. All she could do was try to smile – and even that not very well.
‘Is there any string?’ Avdeyev said, coming back into the kitchen. He stood there as they turned to look at him, their hands still entwined. He looked from one to the other and smiled – a big, hearty smile.
‘Don’t mind me, Comrades. I’m sure the string is out here. Somewhere.’
§
Later, a motorbike roared into the village, just as they put the food on the table, and someone began to call out for the battalion commander. Lapshin went out to see what it was about. Polya shared a glance with Avdeyev – there was no need for discussion. They began to eat as quickly as they could. Sure enough, when Lapshin came back in, his expression was grave.
‘Let’s eat as we go, Comrades. There’s a dam that Division wants secured first thing. We’re going over the hills. We have a Polish guide to show us the way.’