Chapter 62 Chapter 61

Starved. It was possibly the most tragic siege the world has ever seen.It was a siege as horrific as the biblical account; like the siege of Jerusalem, where, according to Lamentations, women cooked their children.When the war broke out, Leningrad had nearly three million inhabitants, to Victor.When Henry visited the city, there were only about six hundred thousand people left.Of the rest, half have been evacuated and the other half have died.There is such a terrible legend that many people were eaten alive.But at the time, little was known about the realities of the siege and starvation.To this day, a large amount of the truth is still kept secret, and the recorded materials are hidden in the Soviet archives or have been destroyed in the war.Perhaps not one person in a hundred thousand could say how many people died in Leningrad from starvation or from the various diseases caused by starvation.This number is probably between 1 million and 1.5 million.

Leningrad put Soviet historians in an awkward position.On the one hand, the city's three-year bloody battle is undoubtedly the material of a world epic.The Germans, on the other hand, overwhelmed the Red Army and swept to the outskirts of the city in just a few weeks, setting the stage for the drama.How does the invariably correct Communist Party explain this?How to explain why they don't retreat quickly, the inhabitants who are useless to defend the city, why don't they store more supplies for the defenders to deal with the approaching and powerful enemy, so as to mobilize this great city trapped in water to prevent siege ?

Western historians are free and unafraid to blame their own leaders and governments for failures and disasters.However, the Soviet Union was a one-party dictatorship, and the party had the always right way to solve all problems.This created a somewhat embarrassing situation for Soviet historians.Only the party has the right to allocate the paper on which history books are printed.The siege of Leningrad became a bone in the throat for Soviet historians who wished to publish their work.For this reason, the deeds of a great hero of the Russian people have always been dimly seen, and the truth about its horrific and glorious glory has never been revealed to the world.

More recently, these historians have touched with trepidation some of the mistakes that occurred during the Great Patriotic War, including the unpreparedness of the Red Army in 1941 to the enemy's surprise attack, the near collapse of the Red Army, and its The fact that almost three years have not been able to liberate half of Russia from the Germans.The Germans were then a much smaller people fighting simultaneously on several other fronts.The explanation now is that Stalin made some major mistakes.But the situation remains murky.As time went on and as the top policy of the Soviet Union changed from time to time, the view of Stalin as a wartime leader first declined and then rose again.He has not yet been directly blamed for what happened in Leningrad.According to dogma, the Party is beyond reproach.

It is undeniable that Germany's Army Group North, numbering 400,000 strong, marched into the outskirts of the city in a furious summer offensive, cutting off access to the "Great Land"—the unconquered Soviet continent. aisle.Hitler decided not to launch a large-scale attack immediately.His orders called for a tight blockade of the city, to allow it to surrender without a fight.Its defenders were starved or eliminated, and the city was razed stone by stone, leaving it an uninhabited wasteland. The residents of Leningrad knew that they could never expect the Germans to have any kindness.Leaflets from the enemy are constantly urging the city to be declared undefended like Paris, but this cannot be done.After the midwinter came, the people there began to bring in supplies under the fire of the German army through the frozen Ladoga Lake.The invading army tried to smash the ice on the lake with artillery fire, but ice up to six feet thick was difficult to break.During the whole winter, in the dark night, in the snowstorm, under the bombardment of artillery, the convoys came and went on the ice road in an endless stream.Leningrad was not surrendered.After the food came in, some non-functional population left on empty trucks.When the ice and snow melted in spring, there was a little balance between population and food supply.

In January 1943, in Victor.Shortly before Henry's visit to the city, some Red Army units defending Leningrad finally, at great cost, forced the German lines back a short distance, thus liberating an important railway junction.The operation opened a breach in the blockade.Under the onslaught of enemy fire, a section of rail traffic known as the "corridor of death" resumed.Transports were interrupted from time to time by German shelling, but they were always repaired afterwards.Most cargo and passengers can pass safely.Victor.This is how Henry entered the city.General Yevlenko's sleigh plane landed near the liberated railway station, and Pug saw a mass of cardboard boxes full of food, emblazoned with the word USA.He also saw groups of neatly lined up U.S. military jeeps and military trucks, all painted with red stars.They took the train into the dark Leningrad at night. Outside the window on the left side of the train, there was the flash of light and the muffled boom of the German artillery.

In the cold barracks, breakfast is brown bread, egg powder and milk made from milk powder.Yevlenko and Pug dined at long metal tables with a group of young soldiers.Ye Shilianke pointed to the eggs and said, "Lease supplies." "I can see that." Pug had eaten many of these powdered eggs aboard the Northampton when the refrigerated eggs ran out. The fake hand waved to the surrounding fighters. "So are the battalion's uniform and boots." "Do they know what they're wearing?" Ye Shilianke asked a soldier sitting beside him: "Are you wearing a new military uniform?"

"Yes, General," answered quickly, with an alert, serious expression on the young, ruddy face. "Made in America. Good stuff, good uniform, General." Yevlenko glanced at Pug, who nodded in satisfaction. "Russian bodies," Yevlenko said, and Pug smiled wryly at his words. It was getting brighter outside.A Stiebeck command car rolled up, snowflakes kicked up from its fat tires, and the driver saluted. "Well, let's go and see what my hometown has become," said Yevlenko, turning up the collar of his long brown coat and buttoning his fur cap. Victor.Henry couldn't imagine what they'd see, perhaps another dispirited Moscow, only charred, bombed, and sore like London.Reality stunned him.

Apart from the silvery clogging balloons floating serenely above the tranquil sky, Leningrad shows little sign of being a populated city.The clean, deserted snow covered avenues lined with stately old buildings.There were no pedestrians or passing vehicles.Like Sunday morning back home, but Pug had never seen such a peaceful Sabbath in all his life.A disquieting, blue, boundless stillness hung over the earth; not white but blue, the pure white snow reflecting the ever-brighter blue sky from a certain angle.Never had Pug seen canals and bridges so charming; he could not have imagined cathedrals of such grandeur, or avenues so broad and magnificent as the Rue des Elysées, silvered in the crystalline air; The Seine is even more majestic than the frozen river, with rows of magnificent houses on the granite embankments. When the command car drove up to the huge square in front of the Winter Palace, he fully appreciated the majesty, strength and history of Russia in a single glance. And glory, not even in Versailles so majestic and gorgeous scenery.Pug remembered seeing the square in films depicting the revolution, with the deafening roar of the rebel crowd and cavalcades of the Tsarist Guard.Today, the square is deserted.There is not a single rut or human trace to be seen on this vast expanse of snow.

The car stopped. "How quiet!" Yevlenko said first after fifteen minutes of silence. "It's the most beautiful city I've ever seen," Pug said. "They say Paris is more beautiful. And Washington." "There is no better place," Pug could not help adding. "Moscow is just a village." Ye Shilianke cast a very strange wink. "Will my words offend people? I said what I thought of." "It's too impolite for diplomacy." Ye Shilian howled.His howling sounded more like a cat purring when it was satisfied. As time passed, Pug saw much of the damage caused by the shells: ruined buildings, blocked streets, windows here and there nailed with splinters.The sun is rising, and the streets are shining with blinding light.The city awoke, especially the southern factory district close to the German lines.Here, the cannon fire left more serious scars; whole blocks were burned to the ground.Pedestrians trudged through the cleaned streets, occasionally a trolleybus jolted past, but there was a constant flow of military trucks and troop transport vehicles.Pug heard the intermittent roar of heavy German artillery in the distance.He saw some buildings painted with such slogans: Citizens!This side of the street is more dangerous during enemy shelling.Even here, however, he always had the feeling that this was a large, peaceful city that was almost deserted, almost free from war.These later, more mundane impressions did not wear out--nothing ever could--Pug.The stark vision Henry had seen early that morning in wartime Leningrad: it was a Sleeping Beauty, a demon-possessed metropolis of the world of the dead in a world of blue ice.

Even the Kirov factory was in a desolate atmosphere.According to Yevlenko, it must be very busy here.In one bombed-out building, rows of half-assembled tanks were covered with charred debris from a collapsed roof.Dozens of women wearing shawls are patiently removing debris.One very busy place: a giant open-air truck yard stretching several blocks across, covered with elaborate camouflage netting, where repairs are underway, tools clinking and workers yelling, here It was a living picture of Lend-Lease supplies at work; a torrent from Detroit reaching seven thousand miles away, out of reach of German submarines; countless well-worn American trucks.Yevlenko said that most of these trucks drove on the ice passage throughout the winter.Now the ice has softened, the railroad is open, and that passage is over.After reconditioning, the trucks could be transferred to the central and southern fronts, where massive counterattacks were driving back the Germans.Yevlenko then took him to see an airfield. The anti-aircraft guns deployed around the airfield seemed to be used by the US Navy.The bullet-ridden airfield is littered with camouflaged Russian Yaks and American Vipers painted with Russian markings. "My son flies this kind of plane," Yevlenko said, patting the hood of a flying snake. "It's a nice plane. You'll meet him when we go to Kharkov." At the end of the day, they drove to a hospital to pick up Yeshi Lianke's daughter-in-law.She is a volunteer nurse and is just off work.Cars were turning back and forth on the quiet street, and the houses along the street seemed to have been blown away by a tornado, leaving only the small foundations of block after block, not even broken bricks and tiles left.The wooden houses in this area, Ye Shilianke explained, were all demolished and burned as fuel.The car stopped suddenly on a flat wasteland, where rows of tombstones stood out from the snow.The cemetery is littered with random rubble or debris—a piece of pipe, a walking stick, the slats of a chair—or crude crucifixes made of wood or tin.Ye Fulian got out of the car with his daughter-in-law and searched among the cross bushes.The general knelt in the snow in the distance. "Well, she's almost eighty," he said to Pug as the car pulled away from the cemetery.His face was serene, his lips were painfully clenched into a horizontal line. "She's been miserable all her life, she was a maid before the revolution. She didn't go to school well. She can write poems, good poems, though. Vera still has some poems she wrote before she died. We can go back to the barracks now." , but Vera invited us to her apartment. What do you think? The food is better in the barracks, and we give the best things to the soldiers." "I don't care what I eat," said Pug, and it was unusual to be invited to a Russian home. "Well, you can see how a Leningrader lives today." Vera smiled at him.Despite her bad teeth, her smile instantly made her look less ugly.The eyes are blue and green, very beautiful.Touching enthusiasm brightened her face.Her face had probably been rather full before.The loose skin is wrinkled, the nose looks sharp, and the eye sockets are like dark caves. They entered a dark doorway in a little-spoiled neighbourhood, greeted by the smell of clogged urinals and frying pans.They walked up four flights of stairs in the dark.Then the sound of a lock being unlocked was heard.Vera lit an oil lamp, and in the greenish light Pug saw that the small room was crammed with things: a bed, a table, two chairs, a tiled stove surrounded by With splintered wood, a tin chimney ran obliquely to a boarded-up window.It was colder inside than outside because the sun had just gone down outside.Vera lit the fire, cracked the thin layer of ice on the inside of the bucket, and poured water into the kettle.The general took a bottle of vodka from the canvas bag he had brought upstairs and placed it on the table.Despite thick underwear and heavy leather boots, gloves and a sweater, Pug froze.At this time, he was naturally happy to have a few drinks with the general. Yeshilenko pointed to the bed on which he was sitting and said, "Here she died, lying on the bed for two weeks. Vera couldn't get a coffin. There was no coffin. There was no wood. Vera couldn't get a coffin." Would like to bury her in the ground like a dog. It's cold, well below zero, so hygiene isn't an issue. You'd think it was a bit appalling, though. But Vera said that for such a long time, she It was as if he had fallen asleep peacefully. Of course the old people died first, they had no stamina." The room warmed up quickly.Vera was frying pancakes on the stove, and she took off her shawl and leather jacket to reveal a frayed sweater, thick leggings and leather boots under her skirt. "People here eat all sorts of weird things," she said quietly. "Leashes, glue on wallpaper. Even dogs and cats, mice and sparrows. I don't eat that, I can't eat that, but I've heard of it. In the hospital, we heard some scary things ’” She pointed to the pancakes that were starting to chomp away on the stove. “I made these pancakes with sawdust and Vaseline. It was horrible, it was so sad to eat, but it was just to fill my stomach. There was a small amount of ration bread in those days, and I ate it all for my grandma. But after a while She stopped eating. She didn't feel anything." "Tell him about the coffin," Yevlenko said. "There's a poet living downstairs," Vera said, flipping and crackling the frying pan.crepes. "Lizhukov is quite famous in Leningrad. He dismantled his desk and made a coffin for grandma. He doesn't have a desk yet." One and the cleaning thing," the general said again. When his daughter-in-law heard this, she contradicted angrily: "Colonel Henry doesn't want to hear such sad things." Pug stammered, "If it hurts you, so be it. But I'd love to hear it." "Okay then, see you later. Now for dinner." She began to set the utensils on the table.Ye Shilianke took down a photo of a young man in military uniform from the wall. "This is my son." Under the light, he saw a correct Slavic face: curly hair, wide forehead, high cheekbones, innocent and intelligent demeanor.Pug said, "Pretty." "I remember you saying you had a son who was a pilot." "I did. He died at Midway." Yevlenko looked at him intently, and then firmly grasped Pug's shoulder with his good hand.Vera took a bottle of red wine from the canvas bag and put it on the table.Yevlenko uncorked the bottle. "his name?" "Warren." The general stood up and filled three glasses of wine.Pug stood up too. "Warren Viktovich Henry," said Yevlenko, as the fire made the dingy, lit room stuffy.As Pug downed the slightly sour drink, he felt—for the first time—that Warren's death had brought him something more than pure anguish.However brief, Warren's death bridged the gap between the two worlds, and Yevlenko put down his cup. "We know about the Battle of Midway. It was a major U.S. Navy victory that turned the tide in the Pacific." Pug was speechless.Just nodded. Along with the crepes there was sausage and canned American fruit salad from the general's canvas bag.They drank a bottle of wine quickly, and then opened a second bottle.Villa began to talk about the situation after the siege.The worst, she said, occurred last spring when the thaw began in late March.Bodies appeared here and there, people who had died in the streets, frozen corpses that hadn't been buried for months.Garbage, broken bricks and tiles, and all kinds of wreckage appeared together with thousands of corpses, creating a shocking scene. There was a disgusting stench everywhere, and the plague seriously threatened the people.But the authorities took drastic measures, organized the people, and a massive cleaning campaign saved the city.Bodies were thrown into vast mass graves, some of whom were identified but many were not. "You know, whole families starve to death," Vera said. "Or there's only one person left, sick or out of feeling. If anyone is missing, no one will know. Well, a person is dying, you can tell, they become numb, helpless. Feeling. If you take them to the hospital, or put them in bed, try to feed them, they will probably be fine, but they always say they are not sick. Insist on going to work. Then they will be on the sidewalk Sit down or fall asleep, and then die in the snow." She gave Ye Shilianke a look, and then lowered her voice. "Their ration cards were often stolen. Some became like wolves." Yevlenko drank some wine and put the glass on the table with a bang. "Oh, that's enough. It's a big mistake. Fucking, bastard, an unforgivable mistake." They had drunk quite a bit, so Pug ventured to ask, "Who made it?" He immediately knew that this sentence was a disaster and offended people.Yevlenko gave him a sharp look, showing a row of yellow teeth. "A million old people, children, and other disabled people should have been evacuated long ago. Food should no longer be stored in stale warehouses when the Germans are a hundred miles from the city and bombers are flying in day and night. Wooden houses in warehouses. Overnight, enough food for the city’s six-month ration was burned. Tons of white sugar melted into the sand into the soil. The people ate the soil.” "I have," Vera said. "I still paid a high price to buy it." "The common people eat worse than that." Yevlenko stood up. "But the Germans couldn't get into Leningrad, ever. Moscow gave the order, but Leningrad saved itself." His voice trailed off as he put on his overcoat, his back to Pug.Pug thought he heard him add, "Not following orders." He turned, and then said, "Well, from tomorrow on, Colonel, you can see some of the German-occupied places." Yevlenko moved forward at an exhausting pace, and the names of places all merged together—Tipuwen, Erzhiyev, Mozhaisk, Vyazma, Tula, Livny—like the United States. Just like the cities in the Midwest, they are all new settlements on a wide plain with an endless sky above them. This town is no different from that town. It is not the calm atmosphere and mediocre scenery like the United States, which is the same everywhere. Gas stations, diners, and motels; the similarities between the towns here are that they are full of shocking sights.Their planes skimmed hundreds of miles of land, descending here and there to visit field troops, village headquarters, or tank and car transport depots, or field airfields.Pug saw the vastness of the Russian front and the astonishing destruction and death. The retreating German army implemented a scorched-earth policy that suffered defeat.Everything worth stealing they took away; everything that could be burned they burned; what couldn't be burned they dynamite.Over tens of thousands of square miles, they have outgrown the earth like locusts.Wherever the Germans had withdrawn, buildings appeared before long.In the place where the German army was recently expelled, the ragged and haggard Russians fiddled with the wasteland or buried the dead with lingering fear.Or stand in line on a flat, snow-capped plain, waiting under the open sky for food to be handed out from the army field kitchen. Here the question of a separate peace pops up, posed unequivocally by the devastated earth.It goes without saying that the image of the Germans as invading gangsters is deeply hated and spurned by the Russians.Every village and every town has its own horrific stories, as well as archived photographs of enemy atrocities - tortured, shot, raped and piled up with dead bodies.The repeated repetition of bloody and horrific content makes people feel numb and bored.It is also self-evident that the Russians want revenge.But if the hateful aggressors suffer a few more severe blows like Stalingrad, at that time they are willing to leave the Soviet Union, stop torturing and torturing these people, and are willing to compensate them for the damage they caused, then the Russians agree to a truce, you Can they be blamed? Pug watched a plethora of loan supplies at work.Especially trucks, trucks everywhere, once in the south, in a parking lot where a row of trucks painted grass green but not yet painted with Russian and red stars was parked, Yevlenko told him Said: "You put wheels on us. The situation is changing because of that. The German wheels are almost worn out now. They are returning to the horses. Someday they will eat the horses too, when only two legs out of Russia." In a large and badly devastated riverside town called Voronezh, they ate a completely Russian dinner at the headquarters: cabbage soup, canned fish, and a kind of grits fried in oil.Adjutants sat at another table.Yevlenko and Pug sat together. "Colonel Henry, we still can't go to Kharkov," said the general solemnly. "The Germans are counterattacking." "Don't change your itinerary for me.". Yeshilenko gave him the same uneasy look he had seen the last time in Leningrad. "Well, this counteroffensive is not small. So we can only go to Stalingrad." "It's a pity not to see your son." "His air group is in action, so we won't see him. He's not a bad guy. Maybe you'll meet him sometime later." Looking down from the air, the outskirts of Stalingrad look like the surface of the moon.Huge craters, thousands of pus-like catapults devastated a snow source, and abandoned vehicles and tanks were everywhere on the snow field.The urban area of ​​Stalingrad stretches along a wide, dark river dotted with ice floes. It looks like an unearthed ancient city, all of which are ruined walls without roofs.Yevlenko and several of his lieutenants gazed intently at the ruins below; and Pug remembered the depressing sight he himself had seen when he flew to Pearl Harbor.But Honolulu was unharmed, only the fleet was hit.No city on American soil has experienced such devastation.In the Soviet Union, there was devastation everywhere, and what was unfolding under the wings of the plane at this moment was devastation at its most complete. As they drove into the city, they passed burnt shacks and buildings, crumbling masonry, piles of wreckage, and the stench of devastation.Yet the throngs of workers clearing away the rubble looked healthy and in good spirits.Joyful children play among the ruins.There are many traces of the vanished Germans, street signs in bold letters, wrecked tanks, cannons, trucks strewn about or stuck in rubble, soldiers cemetery in a bomb-cratered park, painted wood There is a mock iron cross on the grave marker.On the upper part of a broken wall, Pug noticed a half-scratched poster: a student-looking German girl with two flaxen braids cowering before a salivating ape in a Red Army uniform Stretch his furry paws towards the girl's breasts. The jeep stopped in front of a bullet-riddled building in the wide central plaza.All other surrounding buildings have been blown up, leaving nothing.Inside, the Soviet bureaucracy was being revived, complete with filing cabinets, loud typewriters, pale men at crude desks, and tea-serving maids.Ye Shilianke said: "I am very busy today. I will entrust you to Tongding. He was the secretary of the Central Committee during this campaign. At that time, he did not get a good night's sleep for six months. Now he is Still sick." A tall man in military uniform sat behind a plank desk with a photograph of Stalin overhead.He was gray-haired and stubborn-looking, his face deeply lined with fatigue.A large, furry fist was resting on the table, looking aggressively at the stranger in a blue navy overcoat.Yevlenko introduced Victor.Henry.Gunding stared at the visitor for a long time, looked at him carefully, then lifted his heavy jaw, and asked sarcastically in German: "Do you speak German?" "I can speak a little Russian," Pug replied mildly in Russian. The official raised his thick eyebrows at Yevlenko, who laid his good hand on Viktor.Henry's shoulder, and said: "Our people." Pug would never forget this incident, and he would never understand what prompted Yevlenko to say this.In any case, "Our People" worked on Gunding like magic.He spent two hours walking and sometimes driving Pug around with him.They visited places in the ruined city, went to the hills on the outskirts, walked down the deep valleys that sloped down to the river, and visited the riverside.He narrated the whole story of the battle in Russian, mentioning a large number of commanders' names, designations, dates, and troops' maneuvers and tactics. Pug could barely understand all this with increasing agitation.Gunding was reliving the battle, which he was proud of, and Victor.Henry could indeed get the gist of it: the defenders of the country retreated to the banks of the Volga, and they fought on with supplies and reinforcements brought across the wide river or across the frozen river; the battle cry was " Live and die with the Volga!" Days and nights of horror, the Germans are on the hills that people can clearly see, on the roofs of lost areas, in tanks rumbling through the streets; deafening house-to-house Or a bloody battle from cellar to cellar, sometimes in heavy rain or blizzard, endless shelling and bombing, week after week, month after month.The traces of the German army were left on the snow on the outskirts of the city.A long line of destroyed tanks, automatic artillery, howitzers, trucks, half-track vehicles, etc. stretched westward, especially thousands of corpses in gray uniforms, still lying like garbage Down in the silent, cratered fields that stretch for miles. "It's a tough job," Tongding said. "I think we'll have to pile up these dead rats and burn them eventually. We're dealing with our own. The Germans won't be coming back to bury their remains." Pug found himself that night in a cellar at one of those feasts that the Russians could have put on anywhere or under any conditions, fish of every kind and also a little meat, black and white bread, red and white wine, and An inexhaustible supply of vodka filled the plank table.Those who participated in this feast included military officers, city officials, party officials, about fifteen people in all.The introduction before the meeting was hasty and obviously irrelevant.The host was Ye Shilianke. During the cheerful conversation, singing and toasting, three themes ran through: the victory of Stalingrad, gratitude for the US leased supplies, and the urgent need to open up a second front.Pug guessed that his presence might be an excuse for the tycoons to take a break.He also couldn't hold himself under the weight of this deep friendship and tension.He drank and ate to his heart's content, as if tomorrow would never come. An adjutant woke him up in the freezing darkness the next morning, shaking his swollen head with a hazy memory.If not in a dream, he and Yevlenko staggered through a corridor, and Yevlenko said to him when they parted: "The Germans have recaptured Kharkov." After Pug's journey through the war-torn Russian front, Moscow seemed to him almost as unspoiled, peaceful, safe, and cheerful as San Francisco.Although unfinished buildings have been abandoned and eroded by wind, frost, rain and snow, traffic is sparse and inaccessible, and dirty ice is like continuous hills and ridges, the desolation of wartime can not help but be seen everywhere. He found that the ambassador had become enthusiastic. Pravda has published Stetinius's loan report verbatim, with the opening part on the first page!Suddenly, there were a lot of reports about the leased materials in the Soviet newspapers and periodicals!Radio Moscow broadcasts news of loaned supplies almost every day! At home, the Senate unanimously passed the resolution to extend the validity period of the Lend-Lease Act, and only a few people in the House of Representatives voted against it.Ambassador Standley dared to speak out, and he was overwhelmed by congratulations from all parties.The American and British press have officially stated, though politely, that he is expressing his own opinion.The President also mentioned in a vaguely joking tone that anyone who is an admiral is either tight-lipped or talks too much, and the incident is brushed aside. "For God's sake, Pug, I did it, and maybe my head will move someday, but for God's sake, it works! They'll have to think hard about bullying us again." Standley delivered these remarks over a cup of good American coffee, white rolls, and cream in the cozy study of Spasso House.His wrinkled eyes sparkled, and his wrinkled neck and face were flushed with pleasure.Victor.Standley poured it all out before Henry'ley could tell him anything about the trip.Pug's debriefing was brief.He said he was going to write an observation report at once and send it to Standley. "That's great, Pug. Oh, Leningrad, Erzhiyev, Voronezh, Stalingrad, eh? For God's sake, you've trod all over this ground. Don't put Fermont Will's nose all scraped off! Here he sits securely on his box, the lord of rented supplies who never goes out to see what's actually going on, and as soon as you get here, you're Going out there and getting inside information. That's great, Pug." "Here, General, I have been the victim of some kind of misunderstanding. People think that I am a person of some importance." "For God's sake, you're a real guy. Let me see that report as soon as possible. Hey, what's going on with the Germans reoccupying Kharkov? That damn crazy Hitler can't be killed. Sweden last night Many Russians in the embassy are downcast." Pug spotted a State Department envelope among the pile of letters on the desk.Leslie was written in red ink on the corner of the envelope.斯鲁特的名字。他首先拆阅罗达的来信。这次她的语气显然和以前那种做作的爱谈笑的语调不同。 “你在这儿的时候，亲爱的帕格，我尽了最大的努力使你感到幸福，上帝知道。但到了现在，我确实不再知道你是怎样看待我的了。”这句话是这几页感情抑制的来信中的主调。拜伦已经来过又走了，并告诉了她关于娜塔丽迁到巴登一巴登的消息，“你未能和拜伦见上一面，我为你感到难受。他是个男子汉，一个十足的男子汉。你该感到骄傲。不过，他和你一样，有时会憋上一肚子无言的怒火。即使娜塔丽能够带了孩子平安无事地回到家里，正如斯鲁特先生对我保证的那样，我看她也不一定能使他平息怒火。他为了孩子而忧心如焚，而且他认为是她误了他的大事。” 斯鲁特的信写在黄色的长信笺上。他没说明为什么用红墨水写信，这就使信里的也许是有点耸人听闻的消息更其耸人听闻了。亲爱的亨利上校：外交邮袋确实方便。我有一些消息要告诉你，还有一个请求。 首先提出这个请求。你知道，帕姆。塔茨伯利在这儿为《伦敦观察家》工作。她想到莫斯科去，的确，在这些日子里，一切重要的战况只有在那儿才能采访到。前些时候她提出签证申请。不批准。帕姆看到她作为记者的前途日渐暗淡，而她对她的工作却发生了兴趣并且想干下去。 事情简单得很，你能够不能够，而且愿意不愿意助以一臂之力？当我建议帕姆写信给你时，她脸红了，并说没有任何希望，她说她做梦也不敢麻烦你。但我看到过你在莫斯科做工作的情况，我认为你也许可能帮她一下忙。我告诉她，我打算把她的处境写信告诉你，她听了脸更红了。她说：“莱斯里，千万别这样！我不允许你这样做。”我把这种话理解为英国女人口不应心的表现，其实她想说：“呀，太好了；请你就这样办吧！” 人们永远弄不懂外交人民委员部为什么会充耳不闻或者恼怒在胸。如果你想找到其中原因，这大概与租借物资中的四十架左右飞蛇式战斗机有关吧。这批飞机原来是指定运往苏联的，但英国人设法把它们移作入侵北非之用。勃纳一沃克勋爵插手过这件事。当然，这也可能完全不是引起不快的原因。因为帕姆提起了这件事，我才顺便提一下。 现在谈谈我要说的新闻。设法让娜塔丽和她叔叔离开卢尔德的尝试失败了，因为德国人把这伙人搬到了巴登一巴登，这是完全违反国际法的。大约一个月以前，杰斯特罗博士患肠病，病情很是危险，需要动手术。巴登一巴登的外科手术设备显然是不足的。一位法兰克福的外科医生给他做了一次检查，他建议把病人送到巴黎。他告诉我们，在欧洲，进行这种手术的最高明的医生在巴黎美国医院。 瑞士外交部非常妥贴地处理了这件事。娜塔丽、杰斯特罗博士和孩子现在都在巴黎。德国人允许他们呆在一起。他们显得十分通情达理。很显然，博士的病情有点儿危险，因为已经引起了一些并发症。他开了两次刀，目前在缓慢地康复中。 对娜塔丽来说，巴黎肯定比巴登一巴登舒适得多。她受到瑞士的保护，而且我们又不是在和法国作战。还有其他一些美国人同样在这种情况下住在巴黎，等候将在巴登一巴登举行的大规模的侨民交换，这些人将被当作这次交换的筹码。他们必须向警方报到等等，但法国人对他们很热情。只要他们全都依法行事，德国人就不加干涉。如果艾伦和娜塔丽可以在交换之前一直呆在巴黎，他们大概会使呆在巴登—巴登那伙人羡慕不已。他们的犹太身份是个问题，我也不能假装我们不必为此感到焦虑。但这个问题在巴登一巴登也是存在的，也许更为突出。总而言之，我还是有点担心，不过如果我们稍有点好运的话，一切问题都会解决的。卢尔德那件事是值得一试的，结果未能如愿以偿，我为此感到遗憾。我印象深刻的是，你居然能得到哈里。霍普金斯的帮忙。 拜伦匆匆路过华盛顿时我见到了他。我生平第一次注意到他的外貌和你很相象。他以前看起来象一个青春期中的少年演员。关于娜塔丽的事情，我也和你的妻子通了一次电话，谈得很久。这次谈话使她平静了一些。娜塔丽的母亲每星期都给我挂电话，可怜的老大大。 关于我自己的情况，可以奉告的东西不多，而且都是不太好的消息，所以我就略而不谈了。我希望你能为帕米拉尽点力。她的确渴望到莫斯科去。 你的，莱斯里。斯鲁特一九四三年三月一日叶甫连柯将军没站起来，也没和他握手。他只是点了点头表示欢迎，同时挥手叫他的副官走开，并用那只假手做个手势让帕格坐在椅子上。看不见有任何点心或饮料。 “感谢你同意接见我。” nodded. “我盼望拿到那份关于租借物资的统计摘要，你答应过要给我的。” “还没准备好。在电话里我已经告诉你了。” “我不是为了这件事来的。上星期你提起那个和我一起来到莫斯科前线的记者埃里斯特。塔茨伯利。” "What's the matter?" “他在北非触雷炸死了。他的女儿继承父业，当了记者。她想申请到苏联来的记者签证，可是遇到困难。” 叶甫连柯带着怀疑的神色冷冷一笑，他说：“亨利上校，这是外交人民委员部签证处主管的事儿。” 帕格从容地面对这一意料之中的推托。“我希望帮她一下忙。” “她是你的特殊要好朋友吗？”他以坦率的带有暗示味道的口吻说出“特殊”这个俄国字。 "yes." “那么，也许是我搞错了。这里的一些英国记者告诉我，她和空军少将邓肯。勃纳一沃克订了婚。” “对的。不过，我们还是挚友。” 将军把他那只好手搁到书桌上那只假手上面，脸上浮现出一种在帕格看来是在“摆官架子”的神色：没有笑容，双眼半启，大嘴拉长。这是他惯常的模样，是一种好斗的表情。“嗯，正如我所说，签证不是我管的事儿。很抱歉，还有其他事情吗？” “你听到你儿子在哈尔科夫前线的消息吗？” “还没有。谢谢你的关心。”叶甫连柯一边站起来，一边以结束谈话的口吻说，“告诉我，你的大使还认为我们在掩盖关于租借物资的事实吗？” “他对苏联报纸和电台最近的报道感到满意。” “那好。当然，有些事实最好还得隐瞒一下。譬如说，美国没履行诺言，给我们提供我们空军急需的飞蛇式战斗机，并让英国人调走了这些飞机。公布这些事情只能长敌人的威风。不过，你不认为盟邦之间这种失信行为是一件十分严重的事情吗？” “我没听说过有这种事情。” “真的？然而租借物资似乎是你的职责范围。我们的英国朋友当然害怕苏联变得过于强大。他们在想，战后怎么办？确实是很有远见。”叶市连柯站在那里，双手放在桌面上，粗声粗气地讲了这些挖苦人的话。“温斯顿。丘吉尔在丁九一九年曾试图扑灭我们的社会主义革命。对我们这样的政体，他无疑并没改变他那种不以为然的看法。那是非常令人遗憾的。不过，在这个时刻，对希特勒的战争又将怎样呢？即使是丘吉尔，他也想打赢这场战争吧！不幸的是，要达到这个目的只有杀死德国兵。你已亲眼看到我们正在杀死由我们去杀的一批德国兵。但英国人非常不愿意打德国兵。那些飞蛇式战斗机事实上是邓肯。勃纳一沃克勋爵设法弄走以便用之于在法属北非登陆的。在北非并没有德国兵。” 在这一番怒气冲冲的长篇大论中，叶甫连柯每次重复“德国兵”时，他那种粗俗而轻蔑的语调叫人听了颇不好受。 “我说过我对这种情况一无所知。”帕格作出迅速而强硬的反应。关于帕米拉的签证问题，他已得到答复。但是现在的情况已远远越出那个范围。“如果我国政府不履行诺言，那是非常严重的问题。至于丘吉尔首相，在他领导下的英国人民单独对德作战整整一年；在那时候，苏联却在向希特勒提供物资。在阿拉曼和其他一些地方，他们也杀了由他们去杀的一批德国兵。他们对德国进行的每次出动一千架轰炸机的空袭，使敌人受到重大损失，并牵制了敌人的大批防空力量。象这次飞蛇式战斗机事件引起的任何误会肯定不应予以公布，而应在我们中间得到纠正。尽管发生了这种事情、尽管我们遭受了严重损失，租借物资必须继续提供。我们一支运送租借物资的护航队刚受到德国潜艇的攻击，蒙受了这次战争中迄今为止最惨重的损失。德国潜艇群击沉了二十一艘船只，数以千计的美国和英国水手在冰冷的海水里葬身鱼腹。而这一切都是为了把租借物资送到你们手里。” 叶甫连柯的语气稍微温和了一些。“你已经向哈里。霍普金斯报告了你和我们一起进行的访问没有？” “我的报告还没写完。我将把你们对飞蛇式战斗机所表示的不满包括在内。你的统计摘要也一并寄出。” “你星期一可以拿到这份摘要。” "thanks." “作为交换；你能送我一份你给霍普金斯先生的报告吗？” “我将亲自把报告的一份副本送给你。” 叶甫连柯伸出了他的左手。 帕格写了一份二十页的报告。斯坦德莱将军看到这份内容丰富的有关租借物资的情报很是高兴，随即发出指示，将这份报告大量油印，以便在国内政界广为分发，包括送给总统本人一份。 帕格匆匆作书，也给哈里。霍普金斯写了一封亲笔信。这天晚上，他迟迟尚未就寝，不时啜饮伏特加提神。他打算在外交信使出发前一个小时把信投入邮包中。这种偷偷摸摸的绕过斯坦德莱的做法令人厌恶，但这毕竟是他的工作，如果说在他目前这种说不出一个名堂的职务中有什么东西可以算是他的工作的话。 亲爱的霍普金斯先生：斯坦德莱大使正在把我的情况汇报转交给你以及其他人。这份汇报涉及我在尤里。叶甫连柯将军陪同下最近在苏联进行的一次为期八天的观察访问。我提供的全部事实都写在那份文件中了。应您的。要求，我在报告里加上一些“水晶球”的注解。 关于租借物资方面：这次访问使我深信，总统的慷慨赠与的政策，即不要求补偿的政策，是唯一明智的政策。国会由于表现出它非常理解这一点而可以感到自豪。即使俄国人不是在大批地杀死我们的敌人，让我们提供的援助带有一些附加条件也是吝啬的。这场战争终将结束，我们有朝一日必须和苏联共处。如果我们在把救生索抛给一个挣扎于深水中的人以前就开始对救生索的价格讨价还价，那个人可能愿意付出任何代价，但他不会忘记。 在我看来，俄国人正在开始打断希特勒主义的脊柱，但付出的代价是惊人的。我常常在想象这样一副景象：日本人在我们的太平洋沿岸蜂拥登陆，席卷我们的半壁江山，杀掉或俘虏了也许是两千万美国人，劫掠了我们所有的粮食，搬走了工厂，把几百万人送回日本去当奴隶，并到处进行破坏和犯下暴行。这些大致就是俄国人正在经历的情况。他们能够坚持下去并卷土重来这个事实是令人惊异的。租借物资无疑起到一定作用，但对一个缺乏勇气的国家来说，这种援助是无济于事的。叶甫连柯让我看到几个穿上租借物资的新军服的士兵，然后他不加渲染地说：“俄国的躯体。”就我而言，这一句话就说出了租借物资的全部意义。 不过，同样令人惊异的是德国人的战争努力。我们可以在地图上看到这些情况或者在其他地方读到这方面的报道，但是沿着一条一千英里长的战线飞行并目睹真相却是另一回事。考虑到希特勒在从挪威到比利牛斯山脉的西欧也部署了强大的兵力，并在北十展开大规模的军事行动，同时进行一场规模巨大的潜艇战役——我并没访问过高加索，单单那个地方就是另一条其大无比的战线——这种对一个幅员比德国大九倍、人口多一倍的高度工业化和军事化的国家进行持续的猛攻，确实使人惊异不置。这可能是有史以来最出色的（也是最可恶的）军事业绩。我们和英国人如果没有俄国人的参与能够消灭这支可怕的掠夺成性的力量吗？我感到怀疑。再说一次，总统不惜代价务使苏联继续作战的政策是唯一的明智政策。 这就产生了单独媾和的问题，有关这一点你已明确地要求我作出判断。不幸的是，苏联使我感到困惑，它的人民、它的政府、它的社会哲学，总之，它的一切都令人不解。当然，不只是我一个人有这种感觉。 我不认为俄国人爱好甚至喜欢他们的共产主义政府。我倒认为，一次误入歧途的革命所引起的后果使他们无法摆脱这个政府。尽管宣传掩盖了真相，我认为他们也意识到斯大林和他的残暴的一伙在战争开始时铸下了大错，后来又几乎输掉战争。或许有朝一日这个伟大的有耐心的民族将会向这个政权算账，正如他们向罗曼诺夫皇族算账一样。与此同时，斯大林继续掌权，行使严酷的雷厉风行的统治。他将作出有关单独媾和的决定。不管他作出什么样的决定，人民将唯命是从。没有人会反叛斯大林，在看到德国人在这儿的所作所为之后，没有人会这样做。 在这个时刻，这样的和平将是背信弃义的，而我置身于俄国人之中，意识不到也不担心这种背信弃义。对战争的厌倦可是另外一回事。德国人重占哈尔科夫所表现的重整旗鼓的力量是不样的。我问自己，为什么俄国当局允许我进行这次非同寻常的访问？叶甫连柯将军为什么邀请我到他儿媳妇在列宁格勒的肮脏的公寓去并要她告诉我关于围城的恐怖故事？可能是使我们抱怨俄国人忘恩负义的做法显得可耻，也可能是为了使我深切地感到——正如我在正式报告里所描述的那样，我被当作是你的非正式助手——即使是俄国人的忍耐也是有限度的。这里提出的在欧洲开辟第二战场的暗示——有时是含蓄的，但经常是赤裸裸的——简直是没完没了。 我在太平洋经历过一些残酷的战役，但那主要是职业军人的战争。这里的战争是总体战——两个民族全力以赴，各自掐住对方的颈静脉。俄国人在为自身的生死存亡而搏斗时并不是为了帮助我们，但这场战斗正在起着这个作用。《租借法案》好象是一项天授的政策，它具有莫大的历史意义。但战场上的浴血奋战仍然是决定战争胜负的事情，在孤立无援的情况下，人们经受这种牺牲的能耐总是有个限度的。 我的“水晶球”所告诉我的东西也是显而易见的。如果我们能够使俄国人相信，我们认真考虑不久在欧洲开辟一个第二战场，我们就不必担心他们会单独媾和。否则这种可能性是存在的。 你的诚恳的，维克多。亨利一九四三年三月二十七日“关于飞蛇式战斗机的问题，”帕格说，“是在第十七和十八页上。” 这是过了一个周末之后。现在他和叶甫连柯正在交换文件：叶南连柯拿到他的报告的一份副本，装订成厚厚一册的文件。帕格迅速地翻阅了一下叶甫连柯的摘要，他看到一页页的数字、图解和表格，而且有整页整页的密密麻麻的俄文说明。 “嗯，我自己当然不能阅读你的报告。”叶甫连柯的语气象闲话家常一样，但有点急忙匆促。他把报告塞入那只放在桌子上的公事包里。他的皮里子大衣和一只旅行袋放在沙发上。“我要到南方前线去，我的副官将在飞机上一边阅读，一边翻译给我听。” “将军，我还有一封写给哈里。霍普金斯的私人信件。”帕格从他的公事包里又抽出一些文件。“我为你特地自己把它译成俄文，尽管我不得不借助字典和语法书。” “但这是为什么呢？我们有很好的译员。” “我们也有，我不想给你留下一份。如果你愿意看一下然后还给我，这就是我准备这份俄文译稿的目的。” 叶甫连柯似乎有点迷惑不解，而且起了疑心。接着他摆出屈尊俯就的样子对帕格悠然一笑。“好呀！就是为了这种小心谨慎的保守秘密的做法我们经常受到指责。” 帕格说：“这种做法可能是会传染的。” “不幸的是，我现在时间不多，亨利上校。” “如果是这样的话，就等你回来后再说吧，那时我将听你吩咐。” 叶甫连柯拿起电话，急促地咆哮了几声；然后挂断电话，并伸出手来。帕格把译好的信给了他。他把一根香烟插进假手上的钢夹，一边还是苦笑着，一边开始读信。脸上的笑容消失了。他用恶狠狠的眼色朝帕格瞪了两眼，就象上次他在列宁格勒公寓里那样。他翻到了最后一页，坐在那儿园不转睛地瞧了一会儿，然后把信递还给帕格。他脸上毫无表情。“你的俄语动词还得下点功夫。” “如果你有什么意见，我愿意转达哈里。霍普金斯。” “我要说的也许你不爱听。” “那没关系。” “你对苏联的政治理解非常肤浅，很有偏见，而且非常无知。现在我该走了。”叶甫连柯站了起来。“你曾问到我儿子在哈尔科夫前线的情况。我们收到了他的来信，他很好。” “这确实使我感到高兴。” 叶甫连柯在电话里大声发出一道命令，接着把假手首先伸入袖子管，开始穿上大衣。一位副官走了进来，拿走了他的行李。“至于帕米拉。塔茨伯利小姐，她的签证已经发出。你的司机会送你回公寓。再见。” “再见，”帕格说。帕米拉的事来得过于突然，他来不及作出反应。他以为叶市连柯伸出那只好手是为了和他握别，但那只手一直伸到他的肩膀上捏了一下，为时虽然短暂，却也够痛的。叶甫连柯转身走了。