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. Pity; he got off easily, the scumbag. Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 179The Brown Rat 179 Where did the croquet players go? They disappeared after the shot.Bodrov and I took a seat on the floor of the emplacement and had asmoke.Stroyeva continued to observe the German line while chattingwith us.The slanting rays of the afternoon sun fell on the edge of the sniperemplacement.The first yellow leaves were slowly circling in the air andfalling on the floor of the trench and on the still green blades of grass,decorating it with a yellow pattern.A gossamer thread extended throughthe air all of this spoke of the coming autumn.My cigarette died out.Ihad forgotten that I was sitting in a front-line emplacement. Guys! Zina called to us in a half-whisper. Osya, take a look; someoneelse has appeared by that clump of sage.I slowly turned the periscope in the direction Zina had indicated andspotted a head.The arms and weapon weren t visible.The fascist s eyeswere looking in the direction from where my shot had come. Comrades, let me go out into the trench, and I ll at least make thissharp-eyed snake move! Bodrov said. Tolya, stop joking and keep youreyes peeled! Zina replied. My eyes are tired, and I have a crick in my neck it won t turn.I didn t intervene in the discussion.Bodrov himself knew what couldand could not be done.I knew that Tolya wouldn t make it across the exposed area of the oldtrench unnoticed, before he reached the main lines.I held the cross hairsof my rifle scope on the eyes of the prone enemy.He immediately spottedthe crawling Bodrov.His blond eyebrows started and rose; his eyes werelooking slightly to the side.I could see flecks of dirt on his face.The Nazi,twisting his mouth, said something, his thin lips moving, but he himselfdidn t pick up his weapon.I waited for the other German, whom wehadn t yet managed to spot, to show himself.My temples were pounding.In the expectation of a shot, I started to count the seconds, but Iimmediately lost track and had to start over.Stroyeva was lying as if shehad become stone.Only the eyes of the fascist were moving.From thisbeast s tactics, it wasn t hard to guess that we were dealing with anexperienced sniper: he didn t rush to fire at the crawling Russian, but waswaiting instead for a more important target.Suddenly the German dropped and began to squirm backwardstowards the corner of a shed. Look, Yosif, the viper is slithering away.He plainly noticed some-thing.I ll move off just a bit to the side at once, to get a better angle. Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 180180 Red Sniper on the Eastern Front Don t worry, Zinochka; he s not getting away from me.There was the sound of a single shot.The fascist s arms flopped andhe died on the spot.The brown rat, which had been scurrying among the rusty tin cans,was startled by the shot.It scurried quickly away along the enemy breast-work. Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 181Chapter Twenty-oneJoyful NewsAnother autumn had arrived the second autumn of the blockade.A year of toil and struggle had hardened Leningrad s defenders.Aturning point in the war was in the air.Frosts had dried up the puddles and firmed up the mire.The trees weredressed in fanciful garb, decorated by a multitude of glittering silvericicles, and powdered with a white dusting of snow.Feathery snowflakesmore and more frequently whirled through the air.Winter wasapproaching.The earth had become resonant we could even hear thefootsteps of moving men in the German trench line.One night a fresh unit arrived to replace us.Andreyev asked, What,fellows, are we going on the attack together in the nippy weather? Anunfamiliar lieutenant replied, No, Comrades, go rest, before theGermans see you moving out.Leaving the trenches, we strode quickly, still stooped over a habit wehad developed after spending an entire year in the trenches without rest.The troopers were now and then looking around, as if fearing that theenemy was following, stepping on the heels of the men marching in frontof them, swearing and celebrating.After a three-week rest, our former 14th Rifle Regiment, now the602nd Rifle Regiment, re-entered the front lines, occupying a sector onsome heights overlooking a valley that separated Pulkovo [located about17 kilometres south of Leningrad, Pulkovo is today the location of St.Petersburg s international and domestic airports] from the railroad.Theruins of the Pulkovo Observatory were plainly visible from our vantagepoint, as was a wide flatland dotted with low scrub.As we took over this sector of defence, we were informed that we facedRomanian troops here and that it was possible to live rather peacefullywith the Romanians [Pilyushin and his comrades are misidentifyingSpanish troops of the Spanish Blue Division as Romanians, here and inthe following few pages.There were no Romanian units with ArmyGroup North, and the Spanish Blue Division indeed occupied this areasouth of Leningrad between August 1942 and October 1943].The181 Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 182182 Red Sniper on the Eastern Frontdeparting soldiers told us, We used the same well for water.But SS unitsare positioned behind the Romanians.Sergeant Andreyev critically examined the trenches and checked thecondition of the firing positions and dugouts: Your bunkers are low andcramped and you have shallow communication trenches.What is this,brothers? You neglected everything around here.Today there areRomanians, but tomorrow the SS, and then what? We weren t planning to be here for a century.But it will do forfighting. Stop being clever; it s obvious to everyone how you ve been fightinghere.You scrubbed your mugs in the same stream with the Romanianfascists.you ve been fighting. Andreyev concluded dismissively. To each his own, a scrawny sergeant snapped back with a sneeringsmile, before disappearing in a flash around a corner of the trench.At sunrise, I stepped out into the trench and began to observe theenemy line.I couldn t believe my own eyes: in no-man s-land, anunarmed Romanian soldier wearing a ragged, homespun coat was walkingupright, fearing nothing, as if back in his own country.He was swinginga bucket, and upon reaching the stream, he stopped and stared in ourdirection.I could make out his every feature through my telescopic sight: aswarthy face, large eyes, a black moustache, and a prominent, hawk nose
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