Chapter 50 "patrol"

(Albania) Razi Palahimi The Battle of Tirana has just ended victoriously.Those German soldiers and fascists who could escape all fled, and the rest were either killed or captured.Tirana, littered with ruins, fortifications, trenches, and streets filled with broken trucks and cars, is breathing freely again after a long period of apprehension and fear.Although the city was devastated and reduced to rubble, Tirana was both beautiful and lovely in the eyes of its inhabitants, especially the partisans.The partisans came to Tirana with the pride and wonder of peasants who had never seen a big city.

Demir Rapo and Rekheb Buzmahi, partisans of the 8th Battalion, felt the same way when they walked and patrolled Kawaya Street.They were peasants from Malagasyla, who for four years had stood shoulder to shoulder against the Italians and Germans. When Zogu was in power, Demir once thought of Tirana to resolve some issues with Kakrani Bess, but his friends in Ferri talked him out of the idea, as it would have no consequences. As a result, money will be wasted on the road in vain.He heeded the advice of his friends, so he lost the opportunity to visit Tirana, and since then there were few opportunities, so he no longer wanted to visit the capital.

Lekheb seldom went to the city, not even to the nearby Ferri and Vlora, and he never bothered to find out whether there was such a city as Tirana in the world.He had only heard of such a city during the war years, especially at rallies, and to his surprise it was said to be the capital of Albania.Regarding Tirana, he heard two completely different versions: some said it was a lair of traitors, while others called it the cradle of the national liberation movement.At first, Lekheb couldn't understand the meaning behind these comments, but this aroused his desire to visit Tirana, although at that time he didn't know when and how he would come.

Therefore, when the brigade received the order to advance to Tirana, Lekheb, like all his guerrilla partners, slapped his hands with joy. The two peasants held their heads high, each carrying a gun, and wearing a German hat with a red star on it, strolling along the boulevard.They talked as they walked, and when they reached the Catholic Cathedral, they turned left and followed the alley. "I never thought we'd ever come to Tirana," Demir said. "Of course, there's no other way for us to come, is there? Since we've shed blood to liberate it, it It will be ours forever. Don't you think?"

"Yes!" replied the other, "be careful, we seem to have lost our way. Watch your feet, this ain't Ferry... Whoa, what's that wire for? " "It's German barbed wire! Don't you see the bunker over there?" "I see, I see! We seem to have crossed the line... Let's go back!" "Don't be silly, brother! The whole land is ours. Besides, the reactionaries don't dare to come out blatantly, they will find a hole to hide, that's right!" "I say we'd better go back. We might step on a landmine and lose our heads like those bastards!"

"Don't be afraid! We have passed all dangers safely, and it is unlikely that we will die here tonight." Because they disagreed, they had to continue walking in silence, stepping carefully over the barbed wire, between the chawar fern bushes, and across the bunker.They walked along the road and looked left and right, not wanting to find any reactionaries, but wanting to familiarize themselves with every corner of Tirana so that they can talk to the villagers when they go home. "It seems that Tirana also has a lot of huts and small houses. I thought it was full of tall buildings and mansions..."

Demir, pretending to know politics well, scolded his partner: "How can you talk like a peasant! Didn't you hear that the bourgeoisie forbade the people to build mansions?! They were like the feudal chiefs of Muzekya who forbade the people to put chimneys on the houses. They said, 'This is ours. privilege'." "Also," added Lekheb, wanting to show that he understood correctly what he had heard at the meeting, "also, even if the people want to build such a mansion, they don't have the money. .You have to be a millionaire to build a mansion." "Isn't it!" said DeMille affirmatively. "Not only are people banned, but people want to, and they don't have the money to build buildings."

There was a silence, which Demir broke by saying: "It's getting late, let's go back before it gets dark." "Let's go further, to the white building, to see what it looks like!" "It'll be dark when we get there, man!" "So what if it's dark! Are you afraid that the beans will be cold, or are you afraid that our women will be waiting?" "Women? What's the point of them, man! We've been away four years. We don't know if they're dead or alive. Tell the truth, I miss my woman, and maybe it's because of her that I feel like I'm better than I was before.

"I was very aggressive with her at home. I was always yelling at her and hitting her sometimes. But once I got up the mountain, I missed her a lot. I used to say, 'Who knew she was hurt? What a pain, God bless her!' My young companions used to tease me, they could imagine what it would be like to have a wife and three children at the mercy of the Border Army and the Germans. They thought my heart had softened... I That poor woman, how much she must have suffered in these four years. Although we ourselves fought in the rain and snow, and were more hungry than full, at least we were free and peaceful..."

"Yes, man, yes! I think so too. I have a conscience! I almost divorced her once because she went to her brother's house without my permission.I made a fuss that day!She stood there and listened to me throwing a fit and I threw all the nasty things at her.I won't let her rest.But now I swear I'll admit my mistake when I get home, and promise never to repeat it.I urge you to do the same! " "Yes, yes, it must be done! Now I am more sensible than before, but I am afraid that my behavior will be affected by the remnants of old capitalism. Once people are affected by this, they will definitely return to their old ways."

"That's impossible," said DeMille confidently. "This war seems to have washed our sins clean. It's best not to think about them at all, to forget them. Pretend you never committed crimes, and if you forget them, they must forget you. Or confess and admit that you still believe in sin!" "Believe in evil?" Lekheb asked absently, as if talking about someone else's affairs, "Oh, no, no, I know everything now. Do you remember what the battalion political commissar told us? Said To be honest, I didn’t understand at all at first, but gradually I followed the trend and immediately understood.” "I was just warning you, nothing more. I hope I didn't commit a crime for giving you a warning, didn't I? ... By the way, do you know what happened to me yesterday? Hi, I'm on the fourth The brigade met two folks from the same village. We hugged and kissed, more affectionate than brothers. I don’t know how they feel. To me, it’s like meeting God himself. I don’t seem to be in Tirana but in my own It was like a village. This meeting reminded me of everything: my wife, my children, my long field on the side of the hill... We walked along the wide boulevards, and if we had a penny, we would definitely Will stop for a glass of wine, but we are all penniless, so we keep walking. We think of our childhood days, the tricks we played, and then the conversation turns to more serious matters, and we talk about our war experiences. We have So much to say, and everyone spoke at the same time. You can imagine how it feels to meet again after four years of absence! "When we got to the bridge near the big hotel, a man said he heard someone moaning. We listened carefully. There seemed to be a faint moan coming from below. We looked around and finally found the voice. from. "A wounded German officer tossed and turned on a pile of rubbish under the bridge and we shouted: 'Who's there?' "He was clearly in terminal pain and tried to sit up but when he saw us he screamed 'Partisan!' and collapsed. "He had a pistol in his hand, but it was useless, and he fell dead. "We exchanged glances, and I went down to have a good look at him. "I took the pistol out of his clenched hand and said, 'The invaders have lost another weapon.' Beside the dead officer, I saw eleven or twelve small photographs lined up side by side. There is a photo of him and a woman, and the other is the woman with a boy and a little girl. "I gathered the pictures together, grabbed the pistol and hurried away. I couldn't stand the smell of rubbish and dead bodies. "I followed my companion, and the three of us walked to the big hotel, sitting on the front steps and looking at the photos one by one. We agreed that the woman must be the officer's wife, and that the boy and the little girl were theirs." To be honest, I was almost in tears of sympathy. My thoughts went to my wife and children. What would they do if someone told them I was dead?How should the poor woman in this picture feel when she hears that her husband died in Tirana, swallowing his last breath on that pile of rubbish in Tirana?I said this to my companions, but they interrupted me: "'What reason has he come to invade our country? We didn't go to Germany to kill him, did we? He came to us first coming!' "'Yes, there is some truth in that! But I pity the boys.' I handed them the photograph. "'They deserve to be pitied! But I wonder if he would have pitied your children as much as you would have if he had found you dead!'" That's what happened to me yesterday, Lekheb . . . I said to myself: ' If the devil had thought of that in the first place, he wouldn't have come all the way here to die, he'd have turned against Hitler, as the sons of his mates are doing now.If he died for this, he would die a hero, and people will miss him for generations to come.And now I'm afraid they don't even know his whereabouts. "That's right, if people don't stop the evil, they will fall into its hands." Lekheb had been listening to his companion, heaved a long sigh, and said thoughtfully: "Your comrades are right. Who knows how that dog breeder looted and killed in our countryside? He didn't pity our children, why should we pity him? And he only thought of his death before he died. Otherwise, boy, he wouldn't have been running here to kill. He died on the garbage dump, and that was his own fault, not anyone else's. Why didn't he surrender while he was alive? Or he treated us as To be an unforgiving beast like himself?" The two partners got deeper and deeper in their conversation, and before they knew it, they had crossed the line of their patrol, when they heard a woman's scream from a nearby house. "I am determined not to go! Why do you think we are fighting? Tell me! Do you think we are fighting to live in a kennel?" Another man was heard threatening in a rough voice: "Pack up your furniture and get out of here, or I'll smash you to pieces!" There was a rush of footsteps running downstairs, mixed with the crying of the children. "What's going on here!" Demir was puzzled. "Damn, who knows what happened!" At this time, the door of a house opened with a bang. A middle-aged woman with fluffy hair and fearful eyes looked as if she had been thrown into the street. Seeing the patrolling soldiers, she shouted: "Help! Help! Comrades, help me, that villain pushed me down the stairs and almost broke my neck. If you don't believe me, just look here!" She wiped her bitten lips with the back of her hand A bloodstain on it. "Don't shout so loudly, sister! We're not deaf. Take us in and see what's going on!" "Come in! Come in!" she ushered them through the half-open gate. "Partisans are always welcome in my house!" The woman led the way, and Demir and Rekheb followed her upstairs into a richly furnished room.All the furniture was walnut, and gleamed as if wrapped in waxed paper in the bright electric light.A bowl of gruel was placed on the big sofa.The woman sat them down first, and then pulled her two children to sit on the sofa, and the two little ones began to eat porridge. "As in your own home, you are welcome, children, and let me tell you about my dealings with that evil spirit today!" "Who is he? Call him in!" "He was here, but when he heard you coming, he locked himself in that room!" "Call him in!" DeMille ordered authoritatively. A small man poked his head in from behind the half-open door: "Good evening, gentlemen! Are you looking for me?" "Come in, yell 'Down with Fascism,' and we'll deal with your case." The woman interjected, mockingly: "Hmph, how can he say this, he is inseparable from a fascist!" "Stop talking, sister-in-law. Sit down on the sofa, both of you, and let's investigate this matter calmly!" The woman sat down first, and the man crouched beside her, giving off an impression of subservience.He tucked in the hem of his jacket and folded his hands in front of him like a diva on a stage.His behavior was ridiculous, but it showed his respect for the officer. "Yes, that's it! Now stand up and tell us what's going on, sister-in-law!" Demir imitated the air of the political commissar when he talked about criticism and self-criticism at the guerrilla meeting, and ordered. "Well, I'm on your way, boys. My son was a war victim. He was killed on the night of February 4th. My house was destroyed when the British Air Force raided Tirana. It was blown up. My husband went up the mountain six weeks ago and joined the guerrillas. I live on the street with my two children. This gentleman moved to Linze for refuge, and he still has a house in Linze. I Come in as soon as you see a vacant house. If it weren't for justice and equality, why are we fighting? Am I wrong? I have no ambitions. I only want two rooms. Besides, when you are fighting on the hills, this gentleman He's playing billiards with the Italian and German invaders here. Now he has the guts to kick me out of this house. Do you think that makes sense?" While Lekheb listened, Demir produced a guerrilla notebook and scribbled a few entries in illegible handwriting. When the woman had finished speaking, he turned to the man and said: "Is what this woman is telling the truth?" "I can't say it's not true, but..." "Stand up when you speak, this is not a cafe!" The landlord quickly stood up: "I'm sorry, gentlemen..." "We're not officials. Go ahead. Do you have papers proving the house is yours?" "Of course! Here it is!" He handed them the papers. "What's the stamp on this document?" "The seal of the city hall." "Take it back! It's a fascist seal. It's worthless now. You'll have to get a certificate from the People's Commissar bearing our seal. Have you seen what our papers look like?" "I haven't seen it!" "Okay, go get one and take a closer look... How many rooms do you have?" "This house? Five!" "How many people are there in your family?" "There's me and my wife, but I have a whole bunch of relatives." "Okay, sit down!" Demir stood up, folded his hands behind his back, and began to read his sentence: "First, your relatives have their own lodgings. Second, the man and his wife sleep in the same room. Third , this woman is a war victim. Fourth, they are three now, and they will be four when her husband returns. So you keep two rooms for yourself, and she and the children take three... If you have an opinion, come to Go to the local People's Committee and stop messing with this woman, do you understand?" He turned to Rekheb and said, "Let's go, it's getting late!" "Good night!" "Good night, boys, why don't you wait for a cup of coffee?" "No time, we are on duty!" They left.The woman walked them to the door and said good night again. It was getting dark, and in the twilight it was better for the patrols not to go back the way they had come.They wandered past ditches and hedges and onto broad boulevards. "This avenue must lead to the city hall." "Yeah, that's where it goes," DeMille said. They quickened their pace, and immediately reported to the squadron leader when they arrived at the barracks, reporting what they encountered and the actions they took. They do this not for praise, but to explain why they are late and cross the patrol line. Postscript Razi Brahimi (Razi Brahimi) is a contemporary Albanian writer and critic, and a member of the Albanian Labor Party.He was born in 1931 and started his literary activities in 1951.Author of "Four Girls" and "Literary Essays".He is currently on the editorial board of the Albanian "Light" and is also taking courses in Albanian literature and aesthetics at the University of Tirana.Once visited our country. "Patrol" is translated from the author's English typescript. (The translation was published in the November 1963 issue of "World Literature".)