Chapter 6 Part 2 6-10
6
After the operation, Alexey was in a terrible condition, one of the most dire post-operative conditions of its kind.He meditated.He doesn't complain, cry, or lose his temper.He was silent.
He lay motionless all day on his back, staring blankly at a zigzag gap in the ceiling.When his companions teased him, he always answered "yes" or "no", and often answered irrelevant questions, and then remained silent after speaking.Staring at the dark crack in the plaster wall, it seemed that it was a hieroglyph, which implied the code to save him.He meekly carried out all the doctor's orders, took the medicine prescribed by the doctor, ate his lunch listlessly and without appetite, and then lay on his back again.
"Hey, bearded man, what are you thinking?" the political commissar shouted at him.
Alexei turned his head to the commissar, but he didn't seem to see him.
"I ask you, what are you thinking?"
"I didn't think about anything."
Once Vasily Vasilyevich walked into this ward and said:
"Hey, reptiles, how are you? Are you okay? A hero, a hero, and you don't even hum. Now I really believe it, brother. You crawled back from the Germans for eighteen days. I I have met many brothers like you in my life, more potatoes than you, but this is the first time I have performed an operation on someone like you." The professor rubbed his peeling pair of nails dipped in mercury. Rubbed red hands, "Why are you frowning? People praise you, but you are frowning. I am a general doctor. Well, I order you to smile!"
Milesyev moved his lips with difficulty, and made a wry smile. He thought: "If I had known this would happen, why would I have crawled back? There were still three bullets in the pistol!"
The commissar read an interesting newsletter in the newspaper about air combat.Our six fighters engaged twenty-two German planes, shooting down eight enemy planes while our side lost only one.The political commissar read the newsletter with such relish, it seemed that it was not the pilot he knew little about but his cavalry that did such a good job.The communication sparked a debate, and everyone tried to prove how the air battle was going on, and even Kukushkin blushed.But Alexei was listening and thinking: "They are such happy people! They can fly and fight, but I will never be able to fly."
The battle reports of the Soviet intelligence agency are getting simpler and simpler.There are indications from all sides that the Red Army in a certain area in the rear has gathered a strong force and is preparing for a new round of strikes.The commissar and Stepan Ivanovich discussed vigorously where the blow would be concentrated and what consequences it would have for the Germans.Not so long ago, in such conversations, Alexei had spoken first, but this time he tried not to listen.Of course, he also guessed the development of the situation, had a premonition that a huge, perhaps decisive battle was coming.But when he thought that his companions would go to the war, and Kukushkin, who was recovering quickly, would probably be able to catch up, but he was doomed to be mediocre in the rear, unable to change the status quo, he was extremely painful.So now when the commissar reads the newspaper or starts talking about the war, he covers his head with the quilt and presses his cheek against the pillow so as not to see or hear, but somehow the words keep haunting his mind: "Naturally born Reptiles can't fly."①
① A sentence in Gorky's "Song of the Eagle".
Kravtia Mikhailovna brought some willow branches.I don't know where these willows came from, how they appeared in the city of Moscow, which is in a severe situation, in a state of war, and has barricades everywhere.She stuck a sprig in the glasses on everyone's little table.These tender red willow branches covered with white, fluffy balls exude such a fresh breath, as if spring has come to Ward 42.Everyone was very happy and excited on this day, and even the taciturn tanker mumbled a few words through the bandage on his face.
Alexei lay thinking: now the muddy streams of Kamyshin are rushing along the muddy sidewalks, along the shining cobblestones, and the air smells of the warm earth, the fresh and moist air. The smell and the smell of horse manure.On such a day, he and Olya were standing on the steep bank of the Volga River. The river was boundless. In the quiet atmosphere, larks called like silver bells, and the ice floes flowed calmly and slowly beside them. Pass.It seemed that it wasn't the ice that was drifting with the current, but that he and Olya were fighting against the choppy river.They stood silently, and there seemed to be infinite happiness before their eyes.There, on the magnanimous Volga River, the spring breeze of freedom made them breathless.But there will be no more of this.She will cut off contact with him, even if she doesn't break off with him, can he accept her sacrifice?Did he have the right to allow such a radiant, beautiful, slender girl as her to walk side by side with a man with a prosthetic limp like him... So he asked the nurse to put on the table this tender, evocative Remove the spring wicker.
The willow was gone, but the painful thought still lingered: what would Olya say if she knew that he had no feet?Would she walk away, would she forget, would she write him out of her life?Alexei protested with all his body and mind: No, she is not such a person, she will not abandon me, she will not be heartless!But this is even worse.He imagined how she would marry him out of noble sentiments, marrying a man without feet, for which her dreams of a higher technical education were shattered.In order to support myself and my disabled husband, who knows, maybe a group of children, I have to work hard.
Does he have the right to accept this sacrifice?Be clear that there is no contract between them, she is just a fiancée, not a wife.He loves her just because he wants to love her well, so he thinks that he has no such right, and he should immediately cut off the complex between them, so that she can not only get rid of the painful future, but also get rid of the painful anxiety.
But just at that moment a letter with a postmark from Kamyshin arrived, and he immediately canceled these decisions.Olya's letter was filled with a certain veiled concern.As if she had a premonition of the misfortune, she wrote that no matter what happened, she would grow old with him, with all her affections tied to him.Whenever she was free, she could not fail to think of him, and these thoughts helped her bear the burden of wartime life, the many sleepless nights in the factory, the days and nights spent digging trenches and The time in the anti-tank trenches helped her endure a half-starved life there. "That little photo of you recently, the one with the dog sitting on the slats and smiling, has always been with me. I put it in the circle necklace my mother gave me and hang it on my chest. Whenever I feel bad Just open it and take a look...you know what? I believe: as long as we love each other, what else can we be afraid of?" She also wrote about his old mother who was very frightened for him recently and repeatedly asked him to write to the old lady Write frequently and don't surprise her with bad news.
Every letter from his hometown in the past was a happy thing. They warmed his heart for a long time on the difficult front line. Today's letters did not arouse Alexei's joy for the first time, but brought a kind of joy. The new commotion was restless.It was at this moment that he did a stupid thing, which caused him so much pain afterwards, that is, he decided not to write to Kamyshin about the amputation of his feet.
Only to the girl at the weather station did he write a detailed letter about his misfortune and his unpleasant thoughts.They hardly knew each other so it was easier to talk to her.He didn't even know her name, so he addressed it like this: Field Post Office, "Sergeant Meteorology," So-and-so Weather Station.He knew that the front line cherished every letter so much, and hoped that this letter with a weird address would find its recipient sooner or later.And that doesn't matter to him.He just wanted to express his heart to one person.
Alexey Milesyev's tedious hospital life passed day by day in his melancholy thoughts.Although his iron-clad body withstood the troubles of a successful amputation with ease, and although his wounds were healing rapidly, he was visibly weakened: despite all efforts, he was watched day by day. to lose weight and haggard up.
7
After the operation, Alexey was in a terrible condition, one of the most dire post-operative conditions of its kind.He meditated.He doesn't complain, cry, or lose his temper.He was silent.
He lay motionless all day on his back, staring blankly at a zigzag gap in the ceiling.When his companions teased him, he always answered "yes" or "no", and often answered irrelevant questions, and then remained silent after speaking.Staring at the dark crack in the plaster wall, it seemed that it was a hieroglyph, which implied the code to save him.He meekly carried out all the doctor's orders, took the medicine prescribed by the doctor, ate his lunch listlessly and without appetite, and then lay on his back again.
"Hey, bearded man, what are you thinking?" the political commissar shouted at him.
Alexei turned his head to the commissar, but he didn't seem to see him.
"I ask you, what are you thinking?"
"I didn't think about anything."
Once Vasily Vasilyevich walked into this ward and said:
"Hey, reptiles, how are you? Are you okay? A hero, a hero, and you don't even hum. Now I really believe it, brother. You crawled back from the Germans for eighteen days. I I have met many brothers like you in my life, more potatoes than you, but this is the first time I have performed an operation on someone like you." The professor rubbed his peeling pair of nails dipped in mercury. Rubbed red hands, "Why are you frowning? People praise you, but you are frowning. I am a general doctor. Well, I order you to smile!"
Milesyev moved his lips with difficulty, and made a wry smile. He thought: "If I had known this would happen, why would I have crawled back? There were still three bullets in the pistol!"
The commissar read an interesting newsletter in the newspaper about air combat.Our six fighters engaged twenty-two German planes, shooting down eight enemy planes while our side lost only one.The political commissar read the newsletter with such relish, it seemed that it was not the pilot he knew little about but his cavalry that did such a good job.The communication sparked a debate, and everyone tried to prove how the air battle was going on, and even Kukushkin blushed.But Alexei was listening and thinking: "They are such happy people! They can fly and fight, but I will never be able to fly."
The battle reports of the Soviet intelligence agency are getting simpler and simpler.There are indications from all sides that the Red Army in a certain area in the rear has gathered a strong force and is preparing for a new round of strikes.The commissar and Stepan Ivanovich discussed vigorously where the blow would be concentrated and what consequences it would have for the Germans.Not so long ago, in such conversations, Alexei had spoken first, but this time he tried not to listen.Of course, he also guessed the development of the situation, had a premonition that a huge, perhaps decisive battle was coming.But when he thought that his companions would go to the war, and Kukushkin, who was recovering quickly, would probably be able to catch up, but he was doomed to be mediocre in the rear, unable to change the status quo, he was extremely painful.So now when the commissar reads the newspaper or starts talking about the war, he covers his head with the quilt and presses his cheek against the pillow so as not to see or hear, but somehow the words keep haunting his mind: "Naturally born Reptiles can't fly."①
① A sentence in Gorky's "Song of the Eagle".
Kravtia Mikhailovna brought some willow branches.I don't know where these willows came from, how they appeared in the city of Moscow, which is in a severe situation, in a state of war, and has barricades everywhere.She stuck a sprig in the glasses on everyone's little table.These tender red willow branches covered with white, fluffy balls exude such a fresh breath, as if spring has come to Ward 42.Everyone was very happy and excited on this day, and even the taciturn tanker mumbled a few words through the bandage on his face.
Alexei lay thinking: now the muddy streams of Kamyshin are rushing along the muddy sidewalks, along the shining cobblestones, and the air smells of the warm earth, the fresh and moist air. The smell and the smell of horse manure.On such a day, he and Olya were standing on the steep bank of the Volga River. The river was boundless. In the quiet atmosphere, larks called like silver bells, and the ice floes flowed calmly and slowly beside them. Pass.It seemed that it wasn't the ice that was drifting with the current, but that he and Olya were fighting against the choppy river.They stood silently, and there seemed to be infinite happiness before their eyes.There, on the magnanimous Volga River, the spring breeze of freedom made them breathless.But there will be no more of this.She will cut off contact with him, even if she doesn't break off with him, can he accept her sacrifice?Did he have the right to allow such a radiant, beautiful, slender girl as her to walk side by side with a man with a prosthetic limp like him... So he asked the nurse to put on the table this tender, evocative Remove the spring wicker.
The willow was gone, but the painful thought still lingered: what would Olya say if she knew that he had no feet?Would she walk away, would she forget, would she write him out of her life?Alexei protested with all his body and mind: No, she is not such a person, she will not abandon me, she will not be heartless!But this is even worse.He imagined how she would marry him out of noble sentiments, marrying a man without feet, for which her dreams of a higher technical education were shattered.In order to support myself and my disabled husband, who knows, maybe a group of children, I have to work hard.
Does he have the right to accept this sacrifice?Be clear that there is no contract between them, she is just a fiancée, not a wife.He loves her just because he wants to love her well, so he thinks that he has no such right, and he should immediately cut off the complex between them, so that she can not only get rid of the painful future, but also get rid of the painful anxiety.
But just at that moment a letter with a postmark from Kamyshin arrived, and he immediately canceled these decisions.Olya's letter was filled with a certain veiled concern.As if she had a premonition of the misfortune, she wrote that no matter what happened, she would grow old with him, with all her affections tied to him.Whenever she was free, she could not fail to think of him, and these thoughts helped her bear the burden of wartime life, the many sleepless nights in the factory, the days and nights spent digging trenches and The time in the anti-tank trenches helped her endure a half-starved life there. "That little photo of you recently, the one with the dog sitting on the slats and smiling, has always been with me. I put it in the circle necklace my mother gave me and hang it on my chest. Whenever I feel bad Just open it and take a look...you know what? I believe: as long as we love each other, what else can we be afraid of?" She also wrote about his old mother who was very frightened for him recently and repeatedly asked him to write to the old lady Write frequently and don't surprise her with bad news.
Every letter from his hometown in the past was a happy thing. They warmed his heart for a long time on the difficult front line. Today's letters did not arouse Alexei's joy for the first time, but brought a kind of joy. The new commotion was restless.It was at this moment that he did a stupid thing, which caused him so much pain afterwards, that is, he decided not to write to Kamyshin about the amputation of his feet.
Only to the girl at the weather station did he write a detailed letter about his misfortune and his unpleasant thoughts.They hardly knew each other so it was easier to talk to her.He didn't even know her name, so he addressed it like this: Field Post Office, "Sergeant Meteorology," So-and-so Weather Station.He knew that the front line cherished every letter so much, and hoped that this letter with a weird address would find its recipient sooner or later.And that doesn't matter to him.He just wanted to express his heart to one person.
Alexey Milesyev's tedious hospital life passed day by day in his melancholy thoughts.Although his iron-clad body withstood the troubles of a successful amputation with ease, and although his wounds were healing rapidly, he was visibly weakened: despite all efforts, he was watched day by day. to lose weight and haggard up.
8
After the operation, Alexey was in a terrible condition, one of the most dire post-operative conditions of its kind.He meditated.He doesn't complain, cry, or lose his temper.He was silent.
He lay motionless all day on his back, staring blankly at a zigzag gap in the ceiling.When his companions teased him, he always answered "yes" or "no", and often answered irrelevant questions, and then remained silent after speaking.Staring at the dark crack in the plaster wall, it seemed that it was a hieroglyph, which implied the code to save him.He meekly carried out all the doctor's orders, took the medicine prescribed by the doctor, ate his lunch listlessly and without appetite, and then lay on his back again.
"Hey, bearded man, what are you thinking?" the political commissar shouted at him.
Alexei turned his head to the commissar, but he didn't seem to see him.
"I ask you, what are you thinking?"
"I didn't think about anything."
Once Vasily Vasilyevich walked into this ward and said:
"Hey, reptiles, how are you? Are you okay? A hero, a hero, and you don't even hum. Now I really believe it, brother. You crawled back from the Germans for eighteen days. I I have met many brothers like you in my life, more potatoes than you, but this is the first time I have performed an operation on someone like you." The professor rubbed his peeling pair of nails dipped in mercury. Rubbed red hands, "Why are you frowning? People praise you, but you are frowning. I am a general doctor. Well, I order you to smile!"
Milesyev moved his lips with difficulty, and made a wry smile. He thought: "If I had known this would happen, why would I have crawled back? There were still three bullets in the pistol!"
The commissar read an interesting newsletter in the newspaper about air combat.Our six fighters engaged twenty-two German planes, shooting down eight enemy planes while our side lost only one.The political commissar read the newsletter with such relish, it seemed that it was not the pilot he knew little about but his cavalry that did such a good job.The communication sparked a debate, and everyone tried to prove how the air battle was going on, and even Kukushkin blushed.But Alexei was listening and thinking: "They are such happy people! They can fly and fight, but I will never be able to fly."
The battle reports of the Soviet intelligence agency are getting simpler and simpler.There are indications from all sides that the Red Army in a certain area in the rear has gathered a strong force and is preparing for a new round of strikes.The commissar and Stepan Ivanovich discussed vigorously where the blow would be concentrated and what consequences it would have for the Germans.Not so long ago, in such conversations, Alexei had spoken first, but this time he tried not to listen.Of course, he also guessed the development of the situation, had a premonition that a huge, perhaps decisive battle was coming.But when he thought that his companions would go to the war, and Kukushkin, who was recovering quickly, would probably be able to catch up, but he was doomed to be mediocre in the rear, unable to change the status quo, he was extremely painful.So now when the commissar reads the newspaper or starts talking about the war, he covers his head with the quilt and presses his cheek against the pillow so as not to see or hear, but somehow the words keep haunting his mind: "Naturally born Reptiles can't fly."①
① A sentence in Gorky's "Song of the Eagle".
Kravtia Mikhailovna brought some willow branches.I don't know where these willows came from, how they appeared in the city of Moscow, which is in a severe situation, in a state of war, and has barricades everywhere.She stuck a sprig in the glasses on everyone's little table.These tender red willow branches covered with white, fluffy balls exude such a fresh breath, as if spring has come to Ward 42.Everyone was very happy and excited on this day, and even the taciturn tanker mumbled a few words through the bandage on his face.
Alexei lay thinking: now the muddy streams of Kamyshin are rushing along the muddy sidewalks, along the shining cobblestones, and the air smells of the warm earth, the fresh and moist air. The smell and the smell of horse manure.On such a day, he and Olya were standing on the steep bank of the Volga River. The river was boundless. In the quiet atmosphere, larks called like silver bells, and the ice floes flowed calmly and slowly beside them. Pass.It seemed that it wasn't the ice that was drifting with the current, but that he and Olya were fighting against the choppy river.They stood silently, and there seemed to be infinite happiness before their eyes.There, on the magnanimous Volga River, the spring breeze of freedom made them breathless.But there will be no more of this.She will cut off contact with him, even if she doesn't break off with him, can he accept her sacrifice?Did he have the right to allow such a radiant, beautiful, slender girl as her to walk side by side with a man with a prosthetic limp like him... So he asked the nurse to put on the table this tender, evocative Remove the spring wicker.
The willow was gone, but the painful thought still lingered: what would Olya say if she knew that he had no feet?Would she walk away, would she forget, would she write him out of her life?Alexei protested with all his body and mind: No, she is not such a person, she will not abandon me, she will not be heartless!But this is even worse.He imagined how she would marry him out of noble sentiments, marrying a man without feet, for which her dreams of a higher technical education were shattered.In order to support myself and my disabled husband, who knows, maybe a group of children, I have to work hard.
Does he have the right to accept this sacrifice?Be clear that there is no contract between them, she is just a fiancée, not a wife.He loves her just because he wants to love her well, so he thinks that he has no such right, and he should immediately cut off the complex between them, so that she can not only get rid of the painful future, but also get rid of the painful anxiety.
But just at that moment a letter with a postmark from Kamyshin arrived, and he immediately canceled these decisions.Olya's letter was filled with a certain veiled concern.As if she had a premonition of the misfortune, she wrote that no matter what happened, she would grow old with him, with all her affections tied to him.Whenever she was free, she could not fail to think of him, and these thoughts helped her bear the burden of wartime life, the many sleepless nights in the factory, the days and nights spent digging trenches and The time in the anti-tank trenches helped her endure a half-starved life there. "That little photo of you recently, the one with the dog sitting on the slats and smiling, has always been with me. I put it in the circle necklace my mother gave me and hang it on my chest. Whenever I feel bad Just open it and take a look...you know what? I believe: as long as we love each other, what else can we be afraid of?" She also wrote about his old mother who was very frightened for him recently and repeatedly asked him to write to the old lady Write frequently and don't surprise her with bad news.
Every letter from his hometown in the past was a happy thing. They warmed his heart for a long time on the difficult front line. Today's letters did not arouse Alexei's joy for the first time, but brought a kind of joy. The new commotion was restless.It was at this moment that he did a stupid thing, which caused him so much pain afterwards, that is, he decided not to write to Kamyshin about the amputation of his feet.
Only to the girl at the weather station did he write a detailed letter about his misfortune and his unpleasant thoughts.They hardly knew each other so it was easier to talk to her.He didn't even know her name, so he addressed it like this: Field Post Office, "Sergeant Meteorology," So-and-so Weather Station.He knew that the front line cherished every letter so much, and hoped that this letter with a weird address would find its recipient sooner or later.And that doesn't matter to him.He just wanted to express his heart to one person.
Alexey Milesyev's tedious hospital life passed day by day in his melancholy thoughts.Although his iron-clad body withstood the troubles of a successful amputation with ease, and although his wounds were healing rapidly, he was visibly weakened: despite all efforts, he was watched day by day. to lose weight and haggard up.
9
Outside the east-facing window, the poplar branches have exposed pale yellow sticky young leaves, and red fluffy and soft flowers emerge from under the young leaves, like chubby caterpillars.In the morning these young leaves glisten in the sun, as if cut out of wet paper.The young leaves exude a strong and sour green smell.Its sweet fragrance rushed in through the window, diluting the smell of the hospital.
The flock of sparrows that Stepan Ivanovich was feeding grew bolder. "Submachine Gunner" grows a new tail in spring, and becomes particularly active and aggressive.Every morning, the birds flew to the window eaves and gathered together, fighting and making noise, so that the assistant nurse cleaning the ward couldn't bear it anymore, climbed to the window chattering, stretched out her hand out of the window, and drove the sparrows away with a rag.
The Moscow River thawed.After a roar, the river subsides and lies between its banks again, its strong backs docilely supporting the steamers, barges and river trams (which in those hard years replaced the dwindling motor transport of the capital).Contrary to Kukushkin's pessimistic predictions, no one in Ward 42 died with the spring flood.Except for the political commissar, everyone's condition was improving, and they talked about being discharged from the hospital all day long.
The first to leave the hospital was Stepan Ivanovich.On the day he was discharged from the hospital, he paced up and down the hospital nervously, both excited and joyful.Unable to restrain himself for a moment, he wandered about in the corridor, returned to the ward, sat by the window, began to tear the bread carefully, but immediately put it aside and ran out.It wasn't until evening, when the twilight was dim, that he sat quietly on the window sill and sighed deeply. This was the time for treatment. There were only three people in the ward, and the other two were: watching Stepan Ivanovich silently. Commissar and Milesyev, who tried every means to sleep.
There was silence in the ward.The commissar turned to Stepan Ivanovich, whose profile was reflected in the golden window of the sunset, and said in a barely audible voice:
"It's dusk in the country, and it's very quiet. You can smell the smell of melting earth, damp horse manure, and cooking smoke everywhere. The cows in the stable rustle the hay on the ground. Hey, it's anxious: It's time to give birth to the calf. Spring is here...and the women, what will happen to them? Have the manure in the field been dropped? What about the seeds, what about the harness—are they all ready? ?”
It seemed to Milesyev that Stepan Ivanovich looked at the smiling commissar not even in surprise, but in terror, and said:
"You're a wizard! Comrade Regimental Commissar, you've guessed what people are talking about. Yes, yes, of course the women are good at it, that's true; but we're not there, God knows what will happen to these women , which is true."
Everyone was silent.The steamer crowed on the river, and its crows floated merrily across the water and on the granite banks.
"You reckon the war is coming to an end!" Stepan Ivanovich asked in a low voice for no reason. "Will the mowing season be over?"
"What does it matter to you? You don't have to go to war at your age. You volunteered and you did your duty. Now you can apply and they'll let you go. You can go command Ladies, capable people are also needed in the rear! How about it, Beard?"
The political commissar looked at the veteran with a kind smile, and the veteran jumped down from the high platform, his face excited and full of energy.
"They're going to let me go? Are they? That's what I was thinking. It's time to let me go. I was just wondering, do I have to write an application to the committee? I fought in three wars: the imperialist war, the whole civil war, And this time. I have thought enough, huh? Comrade Political Commissar of the regiment, can you give me an idea, okay?"
"You just write this on the application form: Please let me go back to the women in the rear! Let others protect me from the Germans!" Milesyev couldn't help it, and shouted on the bed stand up.
Stepan Ivanovich looked at Milesiev guiltily, while the political commissar frowned angrily:
"What advice can I give you? Stepan Ivanovich, ask yourself, your heart is Russian, and it will give you advice."
The next day Stepan Ivanovich was discharged from the hospital.He changed into his military uniform and went into the ward to say goodbye.He is short in stature, wearing an old, faded, pale-white military uniform with a tight belt, and the military uniform is neatly finished without any wrinkle. He seems to be fifteen years younger.On the chest are the "Hero of the Soviet Union" Gold Star Medal, the "Lenin Medal" and the "Courage" Medal, which are dazzled with white powder, shining brightly.A white coat was draped over his shoulders like a raincoat, and the coat was opened to conceal his military demeanor.Stepan Ivanovich's whole body, from the very old oilskin shoes to the thin mustache (he wet the beard, turned up like a hammer, very chic) is a bit like 1914 A valiant Russian soldier printed on a Christmas card during the Great War of 1999.
The soldiers walked up to each patient to say goodbye one by one, calling out their military ranks, and touching their heels vigorously to salute.Everyone was very happy to see him doing this.
"Comrade regiment political commissar, please allow me to bid farewell to you." He was especially happy in front of the last bed, with a clank.
"Goodbye, Stepan. I wish you happiness." The political commissar held back the pain and moved towards him.
The soldier knelt down and embraced his big head, and they kissed each other three times, as is the Russian custom.
"I wish you a speedy recovery, Semyon Vorobyov, God bless you with health and longevity. You are a good man! No father has ever cared for us like this, and I will never forget it in my life." The soldier said in a moved tone.
"Come on, come on, Stepan Ivanovitch, excitement is not good for him," said Kravtia Mikhailovna emphatically, taking him by the hand.
"And you, little nurse, thank you for your concern and love." Stepan Ivanovich said to her solemnly, and bowed deeply to her again, "You are our Soviet leader. Angel, yes, you are..."
He was at a loss for a while, not knowing what else to say, so he retreated to the door.
"Then why write to you, to Siberia, isn't it?" the political commissar said with a smile.
"The same place, Comrade Commissar of the Regiment! You know where to write to the soldiers during the war," replied Stepan Ivanovich in embarrassment, and bowed deeply again (this time to everyone), Just disappeared behind the door.
The ward immediately seemed silent and empty.Then everyone started talking about their team, their comrades-in-arms, and the big battle that awaited them.Everyone is recovering, so this time it's not just talk, it's a real conversation.Kukushkin was able to move about in the corridors, always picking on the nurses and laughing at the wounded.He also deftly argues with most of his ambulatory patients.The tanker was also able to get up, and often stood in front of a mirror in the corridor for a long time, looking at his burnt face, head, neck, and shoulders that had been removed from the bandages.The more he corresponded with Anyuta, and the more he learned about the medical school, the more uneasily he looked at his ugly, burnt face.At dusk or in the dark of the room the face was pretty, even beautiful: thin lines, high forehead, small hooked nose, short black beard grown in the hospital, The stubborn expression was carved on the youthful lips; but in bright light it was exposed: the skin was full of scars, and the skin around the scars was taut.Whenever he was excited or returned steaming to the ward after the hydrotherapy, these scars made him so ugly that when he looked in the mirror at this time, Gvozdev really wanted to cry;
“喂，你怎么垂头丧气的？怎么，你打算当电影演员吗？如果她，你的这位女朋友，是真心的，那她就不该害怕；如果她害怕，那她就是个傻瓜，让她滚去见王八蛋吧！这样的人走了倒好，你还会找到真心的女朋友的。”密列西耶夫安慰他说。
“娘儿们都这副德性。”库库什金插了一句。
“那么您母亲呢？”政委问道。病房里所有的人，唯有对库库什金，政委尊称“您”。
很难表达这样一个一般的问题对中尉产生了怎样的影响。库库什金噌地从床上蹿起，满眼凶气，气得脸色比被单还要苍白。
“这么说，您瞧世上还是有好女人的，”政委和解地说，“为什么葛里沙会有好运呢？青年人，生活的道理是这样的：付出多少辛劳就得到多少甘美。”
总而言之，整个病室里的人都在渐渐恢复。只有政委的状况越来越恶化，他靠吗啡和强心剂在维持生命。因此有时他处于一种麻木的半昏迷状态，在病床上不安地抽搐。斯捷璠?伊万诺维奇走后，他似乎越来越衰弱。密列西耶夫要求把自己的床靠近政委，这样可以照应照应他。他越发喜欢这个人了。
阿列克谢明白没有脚的日子与别人的日子相比将会无比的艰难和麻烦，所以他情不自禁地佩服政委，这个人能不顾一切艰难困苦像真正的人那样活着。尽管他自己虚弱无力，但是仍然像磁铁一样吸引着人们。现在政委昏睡的时候越来越多，然而一旦清醒依然开朗乐观。
一天深夜，医院已经安静下来，静谧笼罩着整个医院，唯有从病房传出的隐隐约约的低沉的呻吟、鼾声和梦呓不时地打破这寂静。突然听见走廊里一阵熟悉的又重又沉的脚步声。密列西耶夫透过门上的玻璃看见了那条泛着昏暗的灯光的走廊和值班护士的身影，她坐在走廊尽头的一张小桌旁编织一件未织完的毛衣。高大的瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇出现了。他的手背着，慢慢地走着。当他走近时护士站起来，可是他烦恼地挥挥手叫她走开。他的白大褂没有扣上，头上的帽子也没戴，一绺绺浓密的银头发搭拉在额头上。
“瓦夏来了。”密列西耶夫小声对政委说，他刚刚跟政委讲述自己特别结构的假肢设计。
瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇跌撞了一下，用手扶住墙，鼻子哼了一下，然后离开墙壁。走进四十二号病房。他站在房间中间，一拍额头，似乎在努力回忆什么。他一身酒气。
“请坐，瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇，我们就黑灯瞎火地聊聊吧。”政委建议道。
教授步履蹒跚，走向他的床边，猛然坐下，压得弹簧吱吱哼哼陷落下去了，又用手搓搓太阳穴。以前他不止一次地在查房的时候在政委这里多呆一会谈论战争的进展。他自然认为政委是病人中的佼佼者，所以在今天进行夜巡谈论也就不足为怪了。密列西耶夫似乎感到两人之间的交谈有某种特别的内容，不该让第三者旁听的。他闭上眼睛，假装睡着了。
“今天是4月29日，是他的生日。他该……不，他应该三十六岁了。”教授静静地说。
政委竭尽全力从被子里伸出一只浮肿的大手，握住了瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇的手。难以置信的是教授竟哭起来了。看着这个高大、强壮、坚强的汉子在抽泣，真是于心不忍。阿列克谢不由地把头一缩，蒙上被子。
“临行前他来到我面前。他告诉我他参加了民兵，问我工作移交给谁。他那时在我这儿工作。我非常震惊，竟把他大骂了一顿。我不明白，为什么一个候补医学博士，一个有天分的青年学者非要去舞枪弄炮不可。可是他说——这句话我每一个字都记得——他对我说：'爸爸，候补医学博士舞枪弄炮是常有的事。'他是这么说的，接着又问：'把工作移交给谁？'我只要拿起电话，就什么，就什么也不会发生了，懂吗，什么事都不会有的！知道吗，他是在军医院里工作，在我这里当一个部门的负责人……不是吗？”
瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇沉默了，只听见他沉重的呼哧的呼吸声。
“……不要这样，亲爱的，您不要这样，把手拿开吧，我知道您动一动会有多痛……是的，我整整想了一夜，琢磨该怎么办。您知道吗，我认识一个人，您知道我要说什么了。他有个儿子，是军官，战争初期就阵亡了。您知道这个做父亲的怎么办——他又把第二个儿子送上前线，让他当战斗机飞行员，那是战争中最危险的职业……当我想到这个人时，我为自己的私虑感到害羞，这样我就没有打电话……”
“那您现在后悔了！”
“不。难道这能叫后悔吗！我一面走一面在想：难道我是杀死自己独子的凶手吗？否则他现在就在这里，与我在一起，我俩能替国家做许多有益的事情呐。他是一个真正的天才：活泼、大胆、引人注目。他会成为苏联医学界的骄傲……只要我当时打个电话！”
“您后悔您没有打电话啦？”
“您在说什么呀？唉，是啊……我不知道，不知道。”
“要是这一切都再来一次，您会重新选择吗？”
There was a silence.只有睡熟的人的均匀的呼吸声，床垫有节奏的吱咯声（显然，教授在冥思苦想，举棋不定）以及暖气管里水流的不时的流动声。
“到底怎么办呢？”政委问道，语调里流露出无限的温暖。
“不知道……我不能马上回答您的问题。不过，我想，一切再来一次的话，我恐怕还会那样做的。我不是什么好父亲，可也不会是什么坏父亲……战争啊——这是多么可怕的东西……”
“请您信我一言：别的父亲听到这样的可怕的消息也并不比您好受。是的，不会比您好受。”
瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇默默地坐了好久。他在思考什么？在这漫长难忍的时刻里是怎样的思虑在他那高高的布满皱纹的额头里滑过？
“是的，您说得对！他并不好受，不过他还是把第二个儿子送去了……谢谢，亲爱的，谢谢，亲人儿！哎！还谈什么哟……”
他站起来，在床边立了一会儿，关心地把政委的手放好、盖好，掖好他身边的被子默然走出病房。
夜间政委的病情恶化了。他失去了知觉，一会儿在床上翻来覆去，磨着牙齿，大叫大喊；一会儿又安静下来，忽地挺直腰板。大家感到他的死期来临了。他的情况糟糕透了。所以瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇（他自儿子去世那天起，就从那套又大又空荡的公寓里搬进了医院，如今他睡在自己那间小办公室的油布沙发上）吩咐用屏风将他与其他病人隔开：大家知道这是将病者送到“五十号病房”之前的惯例。
后来借助于强心剂和氧气的力量，他的脉搏才正常起来，值班医生和瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇去睡觉。克拉夫奇雅?米哈依洛夫娜一人留在屏风那边，她惊恐不安，满脸是泪。密列西耶夫也未入睡，他恐怖地想道：“难道这就完了？”政委仍旧痛苦不堪，他翻滚着，在梦魔中一边偏执地呻吟，一边沙哑地说着什么。密列西耶夫觉得他是在要求：
“喝水，喝水，喝水呀！”
克拉夫奇雅?米哈依洛夫娜走出屏风，双手颤抖着往杯里倒了一点水。
可是病人并不要喝水，杯子徒然地碰到他的牙齿上，水泼洒到了枕头上。政委却固执地不时地请求、不时地要求、不时地下着命令说着同一个词。密列西耶夫茅塞顿开，这个词不是“喝水”而是“活着”①。在这一呼声里这个强有力的人的整个身心都在下意识地反抗着死亡。
①俄文中“喝水”和“活着”仅差一个字母。
后来政委安静下来，睁开了眼睛。
“感谢上帝！”克拉夫奇雅?米哈依洛夫娜轻声叫道，舒心地把屏风收拢。
“不要收拾，放着吧，”政委制止了她，“不要收拾，小护士，这样我们会舒适些。你也不要哭啦，再哭世界就要发大水喷……喂，您怎么啦，苏维埃的天使！多可惜呀，像您这样的天使我只能站在阴间地府的大门口来迎接了……”
10
阿列克谢体验到一种异样的感受。
自从他确信经过训练能够学会无脚飞行，重新成为有价值的飞行员之后，对生活和工作的渴望占据了他的心灵。
现在他的生活目的是：重返战斗机岗位。他怀着一股狂热的倔劲朝着这个目标挺进——当初他就是怀着这股倔劲在双脚不能动弹的情况下爬回到自己的阵营的。小时候他就惯于思考自己的生活，所以他的首要问题是准确确定，要尽快地达到目的应该做什么，不要让珍贵的光阴白白流失。结果他决定应该：第一，尽快恢复身体，将挨饿时消耗的体力和精力补回来，为此要多吃多睡。第二，恢复战斗机飞行员的素质，为此他要锻炼自己的体能，做些对他这个暂时卧床的病人相适应的体操。第三，这是最重要也是最困难的，就是要加强对从小腿下截肢的断腿的锻炼，使它变得既有力又灵活，然后一俟假肢装上就学会用假肢操作飞行所必需的一切动作。
对于没有脚的人来说行走是一件困难的事，而密列西耶夫却打算驾驶飞机，特别是战斗机。驾驶战斗机，尤其是在空战的一刹那，一切都是以百分之一秒来计算的，动作的协调性应该提高到绝对灵敏的程度——脚应该准确巧妙地操作，比手的反应还要迅速，起着支配作用。这样必须训练自己，以便装在断腿上的那块木头和皮革可以像活的器官一样执行这种精细的操作。
任何一个熟悉飞行技术的人，都对这件事持怀疑态度。然而阿列克谢认为这是人类极限之内的事，既然如此，那么他，密列西耶夫，定要达到这个目的。所以现在阿列克谢着手完成自己的计划。他刻板地（他自己也对此吃惊）履行指定的治疗手续、服用规定分量的药物。他吃得很多，总是要求再加，尽管有时他没有食欲。不管怎样，他总强逼自己有足够的睡眠，甚至养成了午睡的习惯——有一个时期他那生性活泼好动的性格抵抗着这种习惯。
强迫自己去吃、去睡、去服药并非难事。可是做体操就不是件容易的事了。以前他做的那套体操，对于一个失去双脚、困在床上的人已不再适用了。他设计了一套适合自己的体操：手掐着腰，弯弯腰，又伸伸直，左右扭动身体，使劲地扭动脑袋，弄得脊骨啪啪发响。一动就是几个小时。病友们都善意地戏弄他。库库什金撩逗他，一会称他是兹那明斯基的弟兄，一会称他为梁杜梅克的弟兄。一会又用别的什么著名赛跑选手称呼他。对这种体操他不屑一顾，他认为那是病人们所干的蠢事中最典型的代表，平时只要阿列克谢一做体操，他就跑到走廊里，嘴里嘀嘀咕咕，心中不快。
小腿下的绷带拆掉以后，阿列克谢得以在床上更大幅度地运动，体操动作也可做得复杂些，他把小腿用床垫压住，双手叉腰慢慢地弯曲、伸直，他的速度越来越慢，但是弯曲的次数越来越多。接着再做上一系列练腿的动作：仰卧床上把腿弯曲、收缩、再伸直、展开，轮番进行。第一次做完这套动作，他立即感到等待他的将是多么巨大、或许是无法克服的困难呀！被截去脚的小腿在收缩弯曲时感到刺骨的疼痛，动作软弱发飘，很难驾驭，就像飞行时难以控制一架翼部或尾部受伤的飞机。阿列克谢不由地将自己与飞机作比较，他明白了，设计得完美无缺的人体构造在他身上失灵了。身体虽然还是完好结实，但是它的动作却永远达不到那种从小训练出来的和谐了。
虽然腿部体操引起剧烈的疼痛，但是密列西耶夫还是每天增加多做一分钟。这一分钟是可怕的，为了忍住无法控制的呐喊，他的眼泪禁不住流了出来，嘴唇咬得出血。然而他还是强迫自己做完动作，起初每日一次，后来增至两次，并且逐渐增加动作的幅度。每次做完体操他就无力地倒在枕头上，思忖道：他会坚持到底吗？可是一到规定的时间，他又开始练习了。晚上他摸着大腿和小腿上的肉，欣喜地感到手里摸的不再是做操前的软乎乎的脂肪了，而是以前的那种坚硬的肌肉了。
腿占据了密列西耶夫的整个心灵。有时他忘记了截肢，感到脚心疼痛，于是换个姿势，这时才清醒过来，知道脚已没有了。由于神经的某些异常作用，被截去了的脚似乎还久久地与身体一同活着，有时候忽然痒起来，碰到潮湿的天气会发酸，甚至疼痛。日有所思，夜有所想，他往往梦见自己是腿脚健全、行动迅速的人。有时梦中听见警报朝飞机冲去，边跑边跳上飞机，坐进机舱，乘尤拉掀掉发动机套于的时候，用脚试试起落架。有时梦见与奥丽雅手牵手在一片鲜花盛开的芳草地上狂奔，他们赤足跑着，可以感到潮湿、温暖的大地的温柔抚摸。这是多么美好！然而睡梦惊醒发现自己是个无脚的人，这又是多么悲伤。
梦到这些之后，阿列克谢一度陷入沮丧之中。他开始感到自己是在白白忍受折磨，因为他再也不能飞行了，就像他再也不能同卡梅欣的那个亲爱的姑娘赤足在草地上奔跑一样。那个姑娘对他来说，他们分别的时间愈长久，他就愈觉得那个姑娘亲切可爱。
与奥丽雅的关系并未激起阿列克谢的喜悦。几乎每个礼拜克拉夫奇雅?米哈依洛夫娜都要让他“跳跳舞”，也就是拍着巴掌在床上跃一下。这样他才能从她那里得到一只用浑圆认真的学生字体写成的信封。这些信的内容写得越来越多，越来越热烈，仿佛这场短促的、年轻的、被战争中断的爱情对于奥丽雅来说变得越来越成熟。他知道他没有权力以同样的内容来答覆她，因此他总是怀着焦虑的心情来阅读这一行行的字句。
一对同学，一同在卡梅欣锯木厂附属艺徒学校里念书，童年时相互之间怀有浪漫似的好感（这种好感只有在模仿成人时才能被称作爱情），后来一别就是六七年。少女首先进了机械学校学习。战争爆发前不久他们再次重逢。无论是他或是她都没有追寻这次相逢，也许都相互忘却了，因为分别的时间太久了。可是一个春天的傍晚，阿列克谢陪伴母亲去一个地方，沿着小城的街上走着，迎面走来一位少女，他甚至没有注意到她，只是发觉她的脚步很匀称。
“你怎么连个招呼也不打，你忘啦，那可是奥丽雅呀！”母亲说出了姑娘的名字。
阿列克谢转过身去，少女恰好也转过身来，看着他们。两人的目光相遇了，他突然感到心脏怦怦跳起来。少女站在人行道上的一棵光秃秃的白杨树下。他撇下母亲，向她跑去。
“是你？”他愕然地说，用那样的眼光打量着她，似乎站在面前的是什么海外瑰宝，不知为什么来到了这个寂静的，黄昏时分的，布满了春天泥泞的街道上。
“是阿辽沙吗？”她用同样惊愕的，甚至有些不相信的口吻问道。
这是他们六七年离别之后的第一次相互凝视。阿列克谢的面前站着一位小巧玲珑的姑娘。她身段苗条、柔软；圆圆的脸上稚气未脱，十分可爱；鼻梁上零星点缀着金色的雀斑。她微微挑起线条柔和的眉毛，用灰色的炯炯的大眼睛望着他。在这个轻盈、秀丽而优雅的少女身上很难发现这就是那个脸色红朴圆润，略带粗野，身体结实得像个牛肝菌，神气活现地穿着父亲油渍斑斑的工作服、卷起袖子的少女——他们在艺徒学校最后一年的时候，她就是这个模样。
阿列克谢忘记了母亲的存在，他惊叹地望着她，仿佛觉得这六七年一直没有忘记她，似乎期待着这次相逢。
“你现在变成这样啦！”最后他说。
“怎么样啦？”她用清脆的喉音问，也与在学校完全不同了。
拐角处窜出一阵微风，吹得光秃秃的柳条嗖嗖直响，呼地撩起遮掩着姑娘苗条双腿的裙于。她就用简单的、很自然的优雅动作按住裙子，笑着蹲下来。
“你变成这样啦！”阿列克谢再也掩饰不住自己的赞叹又说了一遍。
“到底怎么样啦？”她笑道。
母亲看着这对青年，微笑着管自己走了。他们仍旧站着，相互欣赏着，相互之间争抢着说话，总是用“还记得吗”，“你知道吗”，“现在在哪儿”，“现在怎样”等等问句打断对方的说话。
他们就这么站了好久，直到奥丽雅指指附近小房的玻璃窗上，天竺葵和灌木丛中露出一张张好奇的脸。
“你有空吗？我们去伏尔加河边走走吧。”她说完就挽住他的手臂，他们小时也不曾这样做。他们要忘掉尘世上的一切，到那悬崖上去，到那伸向河里的高耸的山丘上去。那里辽阔的伏尔加春水一望无际，河上漂浮着冰块，蔚为壮观。
从这天起，母亲在家很少看见自己的爱子。一向不修边幅的他，忽然开始天天熨烫自己的裤子，用白粉擦亮制服的纽扣，从箱于里拿出阅兵时戴的识别飞行员的白顶礼帽，天天剃刮着自己又粗又硬的胡子，一到傍晚他在镜子面前转悠一阵就前往工厂去接下班的奥丽雅。白天他不知该跑到哪儿去，在家总是惘然若失，答非所问。老太太凭着女性的敏感明白了一切。她并不怪他：男大当婚，女大当嫁嘛。
这对青年人还从来没有倾吐过自己的爱情。每当从晚霞照射着的、波光粼粼的静静的伏尔加河岸散步回来或沿着焦黑的土地，沿着布满了鞭子似的瓜藤，长满了墨绿色的掌形叶子的环城瓜地闲步归来，阿列克谢就掐算着悄悄滑过的假日，决心向奥丽雅表白心迹。第二天黄昏来临了。他又去工厂门口迎接她，陪伴她走到一座两层楼的小木房，那里有她的一间小房间，又明亮又清爽，像飞机驾驶舱。他耐心地等待她躲在衣柜的门后换衣服，竭力不看从门后晃露出来的光滑的手臂、肩头和双腿。后来她去洗漱，洗毕过来时穿着那件平素常穿的白绸衫；披着一肩湿漉漉的头发，容光焕发、秀美清丽。
于是他们就往电影院、往马戏团或者往花园走去。究竟去哪儿，对于阿列克谢都一样。他不看电影，不看杂技，也不看散步的人们。他只看着她，一边看着一边想道：“今天一定、一定要在回家的路上向她挑明！”可是等到路走完了，他也没有勇气说。
一个星期天他们决定赶早去伏尔加河对岸的草地上踏青。他穿上一条最好的白色裤子和一件他母亲认为与他黝黑的高颧骨的脸非常协调的开领衬衫去见她。奥丽雅已经准备就绪。她把一个用餐巾裹住的小包往他手里一塞，他们就向河边走去。一个没有腿的老艄公（一个在第一次世界大战中致残，男孩子都喜欢的人，阿列克谢小时候，他曾教他在浅滩捉鲍鱼）把自己的木腿敲得咚咚直响，他推动很沉的小船，三两下短划便将小船划了起来。小船一窜一窜斜向河边，迎着满坡翠绿的河岸。姑娘坐在船尾，若有所思地撩着河水。
“阿尔卡沙叔叔，你不记得我啦？”阿列克谢问道。
艄公冷漠地看看这个青年人的脸。
“不记得。”他说。
“怎么会呢，我是阿辽沙?密列西耶夫，你教过我用鱼叉在浅滩捉钩鱼呢。”
“可能吧，从前你们好多人跟我淘气呢，哪能记得这么多！”
一座小桥边停泊着一艘大肚子的快艇，被风侵蚀的船舷上写着值得骄傲的名字“阿芙乐尔”。小船划过小桥，船底部一阵剧烈的磨擦之后，在粗沙石的岸边搁浅下来。
“如今这里是我的地盘了，我不为农委会于了，是替自己干，就是说我是个体户。”阿尔卡沙叔叔解释道，用木腿爬进水中，把小船往岸边又托又推，木腿陷入沙土里，小船动弹不了了。“你们只好下来了。”艄公淡漠地说。
“付你多少？”阿列克谢问。
“喂，随便给吧。本来照规矩应该向你们多要些，看你们多幸福啊！我真的记不得您了，记不得了。”
他们从小船上跳下来的时候，弄湿了脚，奥丽雅建议把鞋脱掉。他们于是脱了鞋。赤裸的脚踩在温暖湿润的河沙上竟使他们感到那么自由自在和快乐，竟想像小山羊那样奔跑、翻筋斗、打滚。
“来逮我！”奥丽雅叫了一声，甩起那黝黑黝黑的结实的脚飞快地跑开了。她跑过沙地浅滩，登上倾斜的河岸，奔向一片绿草如茵鲜花盛开的芳草地。
阿列克谢随后便拼命地追起来，他的眼前只见到她那淡花布裙子像光怪陆离的斑点。他跑着，感到花草的绒毛那么狠命地抽打自己那双赤裸的脚，他感到脚下湿润的、被太阳晒暖的大地是那么地松软和温暖。他仿佛觉得追上奥丽雅实在至关重要，因为他们未来的许多生活取决于它；因为，他现在要在这儿，在这鲜花怒放、散发着沁人芳香的草地上，轻松地向她表白他至今因为缺乏勇气而未倾吐的情愫。但是他刚要追上她，伸手抓她时，姑娘忽然一个急转弯，像猫似地，向另一个方向跑去，身后撒下一串银铃般的笑声。
她非常顽强。所以他一直没能追上。后来她从草地上又转回到岸上，投入到发烫的金色沙滩的怀抱。她满脸通红，张着嘴，胸部不停地起伏，贪婪地呼吸着空气，笑着。他在这片茂盛的绿茵上，在点点星星的菊花丛中给她拍了照。后来他们游了一会泳。在她换衣服、拧干湿漉漉的游泳衣时，他就乖乖地走进附近的灌木丛中，脸背对着她。
她冲他喊了一声，他看见她坐在沙滩上，盘着那双黝黑的腿，穿着一条又单又薄的裙子，头上胡乱地搭着一块毛巾。她铺开一块干干净净的餐桌布，又用石子沿四角压好，就打开那个小包裹了。他们开始吃午饭，有色拉，有用油纸包得整整齐齐的冷鱼，还有自制的饼干。奥丽雅甚至还带了盐和芥末酱。芥末酱装在小罐里。在这个轻盈亮丽的姑娘认真而娴熟地忙碌时，她的身上流露出一种可爱动人的东西。阿列克谢下了决心：不能再拖了，行了。今晚他一定要向她表白。他要说服她，使她心悦诚服，一定答应做他的妻子。
他们在沙滩上躺了一会儿又游了一会儿泳，然后约好晚上在她家再见面，于是就慢悠悠地向渡口走去，他们又疲惫又幸福。不知什么原因小艇和小船都不在。他们久久地呼喊阿尔卡沙叔叔，嗓子都喊哑了。太阳已经落到草原上了，一束束鲜明的玫瑰色光线滑过对岸的峭壁之巅，小城里的家家屋顶，灰蒙蒙静悄悄的树木都上了一片金色，窗户的玻璃上闪耀着血红色的反光，夏天的黄昏闷热而寂静。不知小城里出了什么事？往日这时的街道空空荡荡，今天却熙熙攘攘。两辆载满了人的卡午开过去了。又有一群为数不多的排着队的人走过去了。
“怎么，难道阿尔卡沙叔叔喝醉啦？”阿列克谢猜测道，“如没有办法就只好在这里过夜了，行吗？”
“我一点也不怕。”她说着，用她那双水灵灵的大眼睛望着他。
他拥抱了她，吻了她一下，这是第一次也是仅有的一次吻她。这时河上传来阵阵发闷的桨声。从河对岸划来一只挤满了人的小船。此刻他们扫兴地望着这只朝他们逼近的小船。但是不知出于什么心理他们顺从地迎上去，似乎预感到它能给他们带来什么消息。
人们默默地从小船上跳上岸来。大家都是节日盛装，可是他们的脸上布满了担心忧郁的神情。严肃而性急的男人和焦急不安、满脸泪珠的女人——默然地经过这对恋人的身旁从木板桥上走过。这对青年困惑不解地跳到船上，阿尔卡沙叔叔瞧也没瞧他们那洋溢着幸福的脸，就说：
“打仗了……今天收音机里莫洛托夫同志宣布的。”
“打仗？和谁打？”阿列克谢一下从小凳上跳起来。
“还不是和那帮该死的德国人！还能和谁呢！”阿尔卡沙怒气冲冲地划着桨、狠狠地捣着水面，回答道，“大家都到军事委员会去了……都动员了。”
阿列克谢没有回家，直接从散步的地方去了军事委员会。他得到命令搭乘夜里十二点四十分的火车返回自己的空军部队。他匆匆跑回家里取了箱子，连与奥丽雅告别也没来得及就走了。
他们很少通信，这并非是双方情冷爱淡了，或是相互开始忘却。不，他焦急地等待她那用浑圆的学生字体写成的信，揣到口袋里，待到独自一人时一遍又一遍地念着。在森林里游荡的那些最艰苦的日子里，他把它贴在胸口上，时常拿出来念。可是这对青年的关系突然在初入爱河的时候便中断了，所以他们在信中像老相识、好朋友似地互相交谈，唯恐越雷池一步，因而那没有说出的心声，仍旧没有说出。
现在阿列克谢躺在医院里，随着每一封信的到来而变得更困惑。他发现奥丽雅已毫不拘束地突然向他走来。她在信中谈到了自己的相思；对那天阿尔卡沙叔叔不合时宜的载客感到扫兴；她让他明白，无论发生什么，他总有一个人可以寄托的；她让他明白，无论浪迹到什么天涯海角，从前线回乡时他总有一隅可去，就像回到自己的家里。这仿佛是另外一个不同的奥丽雅在写信。当他端详她的照片时，总是感到：一阵风吹来，她就连同她那花花绿绿的裙子飘起来，犹如成熟的降落伞似的蒲公英在游浮。这是一个美好的、热恋的、苦苦思念等待自己的爱人的女性在写信。这既让人欣喜又让人为难。欣喜是不由自主的，而为难是因为阿列克谢认为他没有权力享受这种爱情，也不配袒露心迹。因为他当时没有勇气告诉她，他已经不是那个有些像茨冈人的、浑身是劲的小伙子了，而是变成了像阿尔卡沙叔叔那样的无脚的废物了。他决定不说出真相是因为害怕急死生病的母亲，这样他不得已在信中也向奥丽雅隐瞒了实情，