Chapter 54 Chapter Fifty-Four

It was pouring rain at dawn.In the dim twilight, children and cattle struggled to move in the square.Trucks drove by splashing muddy water, their wheels spinning, stirring up a cloud of mud.A lot of food and drink in the car has been emptied, so the back seat of the car is a little more spacious.Victor Henry wanted to praise the chef who was driving, but he didn't speak.Pamela squeezed between her father and Pug, taking time to put on some lipstick and make-up on her eyes.In this setting, Pug thought, she was like a movie star going to work. "Okay, let's go," Anfidyetrov said. "In this weather, we have to go slower and less." The car bumped and slid about a hundred yards, and then got stuck in a mud puddle and couldn't move.

"Ah, I wish we could go a little farther," said the colonel.Soldiers in long coats shouted and pushed around the car, and finally pushed the car.The wheels hit the harder ground, splashed water, wobbled and veered out of town.After running for a while on the asphalt road between the fields, they took a small road into the forest.The chef's driving skills are very high (maybe the driver's cooking skills are high, but Pug has never been confused), he walked along the uneven ruts, mounds and deep pits for about 20 minutes, and then I can't walk anymore.Pug got out with the colonel and driver, the rear axle sunk in the red clay.It was still raining hard, and they were stuck in the wild woods, and it was quiet, raindrops squeaking on the hot hood.

"I think he brought a shovel," Pug said. "Yes, I think so too." The colonel looked around.Went into the woods a few yards ahead--Pug figured the Colonel must have had a piss before he got to work.He heard some sounds, followed by the rough roar of the engine starting.The bushes began to move, and out of the bushes emerged a light tank, covered with branches, with its cannon pointed at Pug.Followed by the colonel and three muddy men in long overcoats.The American had been looking to one side of the dappled, camouflaged barrel, but he did not notice it until the barrel began to move towards him.The tank suddenly walked out of the woods, and then suddenly turned its back to the road. The soldiers quickly fastened the iron chains and pulled them out with one click.Then, the turret camouflaged with twigs opened, and two Slavs with stiff hair and childish faces poked their heads out.Pamela jumped out of the car, kicked up and down into the tank, and kissed the two tankmen, making them happy, but a little embarrassed.The turret closed its lid and fell back into its original position, and the black sedan staggered off toward the woods again.They got stuck in the mud and pulled out several times, and they found that the wet and silent woods were full of red soldiers.

They came to a place where there was deep water, and the water cut off the road like a small river.There are tracks and heavy truck tires on both sides of the ditch. It is obvious that cars cannot get through.At this time, a group of soldiers appeared in the woods. They put the sawn wood on the water hole with the flat surface on top, and then tied it with ropes. Although it was a little shaken, it was enough to pass the car.This group of soldiers is not small in number, their leader is a fat lieutenant with squinting eyes.Invite people in the car to stop for refreshments.Apart from the fact that others acted according to his command, there was no difference between him and ordinary soldiers. They all wore the same clothes and were covered with red clay.He led his guests through the woods into a cold, dirty burrow covered with logs.Well camouflaged with saplings and bushes, Victor Henry did not see the entrance to the burrow until he saw the officer begin to burrow into the ground.The bomb shelter was an underground hut of tarred wood, crossed with telephone wires, lit with oil lamps, and an open stove for chopping wood.The officer, squinting triumphantly at the copper teapot on the new wooden table, offered the guest tea.When the water boiled, a warrior led the men to a dirty, crude privy--though Tudsbury and the Russians were happy to use it--but Pug slogged into it. The woods went to piss until a sentry like a forest ghost would not let him go.When Americans urinate, soldiers stand as guards and watch with great interest how foreigners urinate.On the way back to the bunker, Pug came across three tall, expressionless Russians, armed with bayonets, and followed Pamela back.Pamela looked a little embarrassed, but also a little amused.

Before leaving, the lieutenant led Pug and Tudsbury through the fighter's bunker, evidently pleased with his men's work.Freshly dug mastic holes in the damp ground smelled of the grave and were covered with a thick layer of wood that might have held a cannonball.Mud-covered, bearded soldiers in long overcoats squatted in the shadows, smoking, talking, waiting for orders, looking content.Pug saw two soldiers dragging a covered vegetable bucket. The soldiers and the vegetable bucket were covered with mud. Some soldiers took out a lump of stew from the bucket, tore a piece of black bread, and began to eat.The soldiers chewed their bread, smoked slowly, watched the guests quietly, and slowly turned their heads to watch them walk across the ditch.They looked healthy and well-nourished, as accustomed to the red soil as the earthworms. It seemed that they lived a hard but frugal life with food and clothing.Here, for the first time, Victor Henry got an indelible impression that what Yevlenko said was the truth: the Germans may have the greatest victory, but the Red Army will drive them out one day.

"My God," Tudsbury murmured at last, on the way back to the car, "the Belgians couldn't do that in 1915. They lived like animals." "They can," replied Henry, and stopped, for Anfidyetrov had his eyes fixed on them while they were uttering these simple whispers. "Well, we're actually not far from our destination," said the Russian, wiping the rain off his face, and helping Pamela into the back seat. "If it weren't for the slippery road, we'd be here now." The car bumped out of the woods splashing mud and water.Under the low gray clouds, a field several miles away spread out in front, flat as a tabletop."That's where we're going," said Anfidyetrov, pointing to a forest in the distance directly ahead. They reached an intersection where the mud was stirring like boiling water, and the road ahead looked fine. , but the driver made a sharp turn and slid the car to the right.

"Why don't we go straight on?" said Pamela. "Isn't there a way?" "Oh, yes, the road is open. It's all mined. The whole area here—" the colonel waved his arms over the silent fields after harvest— "They're all planted with landmines." Pug shuddered a little, and said, "It's good to get this all sorted out before we go." Anfidyetrov gave him a rare smile, showing his red gums like a wolf's, and wiped the clear snot from under his bluish thin nose. "Yes, Colonel. Your tour guides in this area must be really informed, or your personal safety will be compromised."

They bumped forward on the muddy path, and it was raining, which made the road even muddier.After walking for a while, all four wheels of the car got stuck in the mud and stopped in the middle of an endless stretch of yellow stubble.No one came to the rescue.They can't come unless they come out of the ground.But Pug still thought someone would come to the rescue.After the driver cleared the dirt around the wheels with a shovel, he placed a wooden board in front of the rear wheels.When the passengers got out of the car to reduce the weight of the car, Anfidyetrov reminded them not to leave the road, because there were landmines everywhere under the stubble.Mud and sawdust splashed all over them, the car wobbled out of the puddle, and they continued on.

Pug didn't plan to guess the direction any more, and they didn't see a single sign or sign along the way.There was not a shred of sunlight beneath the low gray clouds.In the woods where the worm soldiers stayed, the shelling was quieter than in the village, but here it was quite loud, but it may also be due to the difference in distance between the tortuous fronts.Apparently they had stopped going west, for the German positions were to the west.The car advanced slowly five miles or so behind the line of fire. "We'll have to take a detour here," said the tank colonel at another intersection, "but you'll see something interesting," and they drove into the fields, where the tall green and yellow stalks, uncut, were Started to rot in the ground.After a mile or so, Anfidyetrov asked the driver to stop. "Perhaps you won't object to stretching your legs here," he said, "you've all got nice thick boots on." He gave Pamela an odd look, "but you might hate walking here. Maybe you and The driver stayed in the car with him?"

"I'll go unless you let me stay." "Very well, let's go." They pushed aside the stalks and moved on.The silent and rain-drenched crop field exudes the fragrance of ripe millet, which is really a bit like an orchard.But the guests lined up behind Anfidyetrov, creaking and stepping on the muddy water. Not far away, they suddenly smelled a pungent rotten stench, and they exchanged glances at each other.When they got to the open ground, they saw the cause of the rancidity.They are facing a battlefield. In every direction, the crops were crushed in the brown mud, forming criss-crossing ruts.Some small pieces of unpressed grain stalks are still standing there. Between the long brown ruts and the blue-yellow crop clumps, there are destroyed tanks everywhere, some overturned on the side, and some completely turned over. Here they come, their camouflage paint black and blistered, their tracks snapped off and their decks split.Among them, seven tanks have German logos on them, and two are light Russian T-26 tanks. This kind of tank Pag is common in Moscow.The stench came from the dead Germans, bodies in green uniforms lying all over the ground, and some in open tanks.The dead man's purple face was disgustingly swollen and covered with large black flies, but it could still be seen that it was some young man.Pamela turned pale with fright, and covered her face with a handkerchief.

"Well, I'm sorry," said the colonel, with a look of disgust on his face. "This was fought the day before yesterday. The Germans were caught just after a probing attack. Their accomplices were in a little too much haste from here to stop and bury them decently." .” Steel helmets, waste paper, and broken bottles were littered between the tank and the corpses.It was especially odd to see a mess of women's underwear - pink, blue and white panties and petticoats - soaked in muddy water near the overturned tank.Pamela raised her eyebrows, which were exposed on the handkerchief, at these things. "That's, funny, isn't it? I think the Germans stole these things from the village. The Germans steal what they can get their hands on. That's why they come to our country, mainly—to steal. A month ago, near Vyazma, we fought a very tough tank battle. In one of the tanks we smashed, there was a large and beautiful marble clock, and a dead pig. Cannon flares What a pity the pig was ruined, a very good pig, yes, I thought you might be interested in that." Pictures of wrecked armored vehicles are common in Moscow, but the real German tanks, which Victor Henry had only seen in Berlin before, were hung with a small red letter A while the loudspeaker played steel pipe music marches. The flag was paraded across the boulevard, and the audience cheered and gave Nazi salutes.He has also seen batches of new German tanks on the gondola of the train, rumbling to the front.Two thousand miles from Berlin, in the desolate Russian cornfields, Henry was horrified to see several German tanks wrecked, their crews rotting in the nearby mud.He said to the tank colonel: "Are these Mark III tanks? How can your T-26 destroy the Mark III? Their firepower cannot penetrate the Mark III." Anfidyetrov laughed. "Okay, good. As a sailor, you know a little about tank warfare. But you'd better ask the battalion commander, he won this battle. Let's move on." They returned to the intersection along the way they had come, and headed towards the forest, arriving at a place that looked like an open-air tank repair workshop.It was a small village of a dozen thatched log cabins scattered along a road through wild woods.Under the shade of the trees, the disassembled tracks were laid straight on the ground, the wheels and gun barrels on the tank were removed, and there were people in blue or black work clothes on both sides, hammering hammers, filing files, and oiling wipers. Oil, welding welding, shouting and laughing at each other in Russian.A small, hook-nosed, swarthy officer in a too-big olive overcoat strolled down the street, and when he saw the black sedan, he stepped forward quickly.He saluted the colonel, and the two embraced and kissed.Anfidyetrov introduced the guests: "Major Gaplan. I showed my friends those German tanks that were destroyed there. Our US Navy friends asked a real tank expert question. He asked, how can the T-26 destroy the Mark III?" The battalion commander was all smiles, patted Victor Henry on the back and said in Russian: "Okay, go this way." Cross the last grass He led them into the woods, past two rows of light tanks lined up under the trees, their green and earth-colored patches covered with camouflage netting. "That's the way it is," he said proudly. "This is how we beat the Mark III." Scattered among the trees were five armored behemoths, well covered with twigs and camouflage netting, protruding huge barrels high into the air from hulking square turrets.Tudsbury stared dumbfounded at them, rubbing his beard with his knuckles excitedly, and said, "My God! What are these things?" "Our newest Russian tank," Anfidyetrov said. "Evlenko thought this might interest President Roosevelt." "How marvelous!" said Tarky. "Yeah, I've heard you have these giants, but—how much do they weigh? A hundred tons? Look at this barrel!" The Russians looked at each other and smiled."It's a good tank," said Anfidyetrov. Tudsbury asked if they could climb inside and, to Pug's surprise, the colonel agreed.As Pug climbed, the young tankman helped the fat, lame Englishman up to the hatch.Inside the conning tower, though crowded with machinery, instruments, and heavy breeches of cannons, there was plenty of room for movement.Surprisingly the tank smelled of a new sleeper, which Pug supposed emanated from the thick leather seats on which the gunner and commander sat.He didn't know much about tanks, but although some instrument racks and wiring were made thicker, the craftsmanship of the raw metal inside seemed to be good.All kinds of instruments, valves and controllers look like old-fashioned German products. "My God, Henry, this is a battleship on land," said Tudsbury. "Compared you to those little tin cans we sat in! Hey, the best German tanks today are like eggshells compared to this one. Fucking eggshells! No idea!" When they climbed out, soldiers had gathered around the tank, maybe more than a hundred people, and some were still coming out of the woods.On the armored plate stood Pamela, both embarrassed and amused by the men's gaze.Clad in mud-clad sheepskin, Pamela was not a glamorous target, but her presence seemed to thrill the tank crews into a state of fascination.A spectacled, yellow-toothed officer with a pale round face stood beside her.Gaplan introduced him as an instructor. "The instructor would like you all to meet the officers and soldiers of the battalion," Anfidyetrov said to Victor Henry. "He considers your visit a major event that can be used to encourage their fighting spirit." "Excellent," said Victor Henry. He could only understand a sentence or a half of the harsh and eloquent babble of the round-faced trainer, but from the earnest tone, the waving fists, the slogans of the communists, and the innocent and dedicated faces of the beautiful young tank soldiers, A clear general idea can be guessed.The instructor's speech is half like a revivalist's sermon and half like a team coach's encouraging speech.Suddenly the soldiers cheered, and Anfidyetrov began to translate, turning every three or four sentences, when the round-faced instructor smiled and said to him: "In the name of the Red Army, I now welcome to our fronts Captain Henry of the United States Navy, British war correspondent Tudsbury, and especially the brave British female reporter Pamela. The sight of a pretty face always raises the morale of a combatant." Morale." (Laughter among soldiers). "But we mean no harm, Miss Tudsbury, of course we are only thinking of the sweethearts of our family. On the other hand, your father was wise enough to come with you to protect you from the strong and flamboyant young Russian tank soldiers. seduction." (Laughter and applause). "You have shown us that the British and American people have not forgotten us in our struggle against the fascist wolves. "Comrade Stalin once said that whoever has more internal combustion engines wins the war. Why is the internal combustion engine so important? Because oil is the largest energy source today, and energy determines the outcome of a war. We tank soldiers understand this! Hitler and Germany People think that they will soon produce a lot of internal combustion engines to equip tanks and planes, before the world is ready. Hitler even hoped that once he decided to attack the peaceful Soviet people, some ruling groups in the United States and Britain would Help them. Well, he miscalculated the situation. These two great countries have formed an unshakable front with the Soviet people. The arrival of our guests shows us this problem. Our three countries We have more internal combustion engines than Germany, we have much more industry than them, so we will build more machines faster than them, so we will win this war. "We could have won the battle sooner if our friends had brought us large quantities of war supplies quickly, because the Nazi bandits won't leave until they are wiped out in great numbers. Above all, if the British allies immediately Open up a second front and kill some of the Germans so we can win faster. Some people think defeating the Germans is impossible. So let us ask the soldiers of the battalion: Have you ever fought the Germans?" Dusk had fallen by the time he delivered his tirade, and Pug could only see the faces of the nearest soldiers.A roar was heard from the darkness: "Beat it!" "Did you beat them?" "It's defeated!" "Are you afraid of the Germans?" "Don't be afraid!" - There was a burst of majestic laughter. "Do you think the British should be afraid of opening a second front against Germany?" "No!" - There was another burst of laughter, followed by shouting in Russian like a college student cheerleader: "Open up a second battlefield! Open up a second battlefield!" "Thank you, my comrades. Now eat and go back to the tank station. We have won many battles, for our socialist motherland, for our loved ones, for our mothers, wives and children, For the sake of Comrade Stalin, we must win more victories!" Loud voices of college student cheerleaders in the gloom: "We die for the Soviet Union!" "Adjourn," called the instructor in a gruff voice, as the moon rose over the trees. Pug awoke from a restless sleep on the dirty ground of straw mats in the wooden hut.Tarky Tudsbury snored incessantly in the darkness around him.Pug took out a cigarette and lit it, and in the light of the match he saw Pamela sitting on the only bed, her back against the plastered wooden wall, her eyes wide open. "Pam?" "Well, I feel like I'm still bouncing in the mud. If I go outside, do you think the guards will shoot me?" "Let's try. I'll go out first, and if you hit me, you go back to your bed." "Ah, that's a great idea. Thank you." Pug took a drag on his cigarette, and in the red light of the cigarette butt, Pamela came to hold his hand tightly.Along the rough wall Pug found the door and opened it, revealing a long blue slit in the darkness. "I'm going to be unlucky, there's the moon, there's the stars." The bright moon high in the sky was partly obscured by clouds that were quickly rolling in, casting a blue-grey color on the thatched huts and the deserted rutted roads.In the woods across the road, soldiers were singing melancholy to the accordion.Victor Henry and Pamela Tudsbury held hands and sat down on a thick bench, huddling together in the cold to keep out the wind that blew off the road.The soil beneath his feet had frozen into hard lumps. "Christ," said Pamela, "it's a long way from Tipperary, isn't it?" "Farther from Washington." "Thank you for bringing me out, Victor. I just sat there and couldn't move. I love the country vibe here, but oh my god, the wind is stinging!" A yellow flash across the sky, followed by a loud cannonade.Pamela took a breath, and leaned back against Henry. "Ouch! Look at that cannon! It's kind of nasty for Taj to have me here, isn't it? Of course it suits his heart. He dictated two hours by candlelight tonight, and he can't do a single word by himself." Can't write it either. I think he made up a lot. Are those tanks as amazing as he says? His last sentence says that if the Soviet Union can mass-produce such tanks, the war will be over." "Alas, that's news. Size isn't everything. Any tank, no matter how big, with a faulty construction can be a tanker's cremator. How does it move? How easy is it to hit? The Germans will Find the weak point. They're going to hurry up and build a terrestrial that can pierce this type of tank. They're good at it. But it's a good tank nonetheless." "You're right!" Pamela laughed. "I think that's why I can't sleep. I fantasize about a scene where the war is suddenly over, and it's a strange and fascinating idea! The Germans are defeated, Hitler is dead or locked up, London is brightly lit again, the big After it was cleared, life was back to the way it was! All because thousands of these giant tanks rolled into Berlin - my God, the gunshots sounded so close." "It's fantasy," Victor Henry said. "The Germans are winning. We're close to Moscow, Pam." There was a moment of silence, and she looked up at the moon and the stars, then at Pug's face in the shadows, and said, "When you said those tanks couldn't end the war, guess what? I felt relieved, relieved What kind of crazy reaction is this?" "Well, as long as the war is going on, it won't stay the same." Victor Henry looked at the yellow flames that suddenly rose among the western clouds. "Expensive Fireworks—Traveling to Strange Lands—" "Fun companion," Pamela said. "Yes, Pam. Interesting company." Now there was only the accordion solo left, and the lullaby-like melancholy tones were half lost in the low whistling of the wind-blown woods. "What does that feeling of suddenly recalling something mean?" she said. "The kind you felt at Tolstoy's yesterday?" Pug said, "Isn't it a fleeting flash of the mind? Some unrelated stimulus that suddenly triggers the feeling of recognition. I saw it once in a book." "On the second day of the Bremen's voyage," said Pamela, "I was walking on deck in the morning. You were walking too, in the opposite direction. We ran into each other twice. It's a little ridiculous to think, I decided The next time we meet again, I want you to go for a walk with me. Then it suddenly occurred to me that you would bring it up first. I knew how you would phrase it, and you did. I said a few words about your wife, and It was as if I was acting, and your answer seemed to be the next line of the line, all the same old routine. I never forgot that." A tall soldier wrapped in a heavy overcoat, breathing hot air from his nose, was plodding past, the unsheathed bayonet on his rifle gleaming in the moonlight.He stopped to look at them both, and walked on again. "Where are we going tomorrow, Victor?" "I'm going to the front. You stay with Talkey in a town a few miles down the road. The colonel says you have to run sometimes at the front, and Talkey certainly can't." "Why do you have to go?" "Oh, it was suggested by Amphidyetrov. You can learn a lot." "Another flight to Berlin." "No. I'll be on the ground the whole time, in friendly territory, totally different." "How long will you be away from us?" "Only a few hours." A bright green light blinded them, and for a moment the sky was filled with flashes of light.After their pupils adjusted to the mutation, they saw four smoky green lights sinking slowly from the thick clouds, and heard the sound of the engine starting.The patrol left the road.The village was lifeless: a sleepy Russian hamlet of thatched huts by the muddy road in the woods, like a hundred other villages, under flares like a theatrical set.All tanks under repair have been camouflaged. "You're very pale," Pam said. "You should look at yourself. They're looking for this tank battalion." Light falls to the ground.One light turned orange and then disappeared.The sound of the plane faded away.Pug looked at his watch. "I thought the Russians were putting too much emphasis on the camouflage net, but there seems to be a reason for it." He stood up stiffly, and opened the door of the cabin. "We'd better try to get some more sleep." Pamela stretched out a hand, the palm facing the dark sky.Clouds have covered the moon and stars. "I feel like there's something." She held out her hand to Pug.In the last falling flash he saw a large snowflake melting in her hand.