March Battalion Read Free Page B

couldn't pronounce it even if they knew what it was - not that you'll be in much better case with your lousy Baltic accents, but still, I can't teach you good Russian all in five minutes... Now try to get it into your thick skulls. "Raswjetili jablonski i gruschi". Panjemajo? (Got it?) The reply is "Schaumjana uliza". And if anyone says otherwise, shoot first and ask questions afterwards. Schaumjana uliza. Headquarters of the N.K.V.D. in Tomsk, in case your ignorance is even greater than I imagined. Now, then--' He climbed up on to the tank and leaned forward towards Alte. 'This is your new itinerary. Take the road for Sadovoje, but don't go through the town, it's already crowded out with the whole of the 14th Division. Take the road to the south, to Krasnoje. They'll give you a new password there. Panjemajo, Gospodin?'
    'Da,'said Alte.
    'O.K., then,'
    The sergeant raised his hand in a farewell salute and jumped off the tank. We were free to go our own way once more - only this time we had the blessing of the Russians to go with us!
    For some hours we drove eastwards, giving a wide berth to any villages en route. Several times we passed groups of Russian soldiers, but only once was the password demanded of -
    In the late evening we reached the mountains and called a temporary halt in a wood, where the tanks were well hidden from any prying Russian eyes. Alte called up headquarters for new directions, and the order came through at once: proceed towards Tuapse.
    We set off again, in a south-westerly direction, and proceeded for some miles in comparative silence, which was ultimately broken by the voice of doom coming from Porta:
    'We'll be out of gas pretty soon.'
    No reaction from any of us save Little John, who wished to know how we were to continue without petrol, and warned the world in general that with (a) his corns and (b) his piles it was no earthly use expecting him to walk half way across Russia. No one deigned to reply.
    As we pressed on, the storm clouds gathered above us and on either side the mountains closed in. The country grew ever more wild, ever more bleak. It breathed hostility in every breath. The road we were following was shown on the map to be broad and straight, but it grew narrower and steeper mile by mile. The heavy tanks tended to skid on the glassy surface and it required great skill on the part of the drivers to keep them under control. The observation panel was a solid block of ice, totally useless. We had to keep the side panels open, with the result that the wind blew the snow in upon us in cold gusts.
    Quite suddenly, our sister tank, driven by Steiner, skidded on a patch of ice and slewed round in a semi-circle, and we Were forced to call a halt and go to her assistance. We broke two steel hawsers trying to drag her back on to the road facing in the right direction. They simply snapped in half as if they ' had been pieces of cotton. Next we tried it with the heavy, linked-chain towline. That got her moving all right, but she skidded once more on the same patch of ice and this time she came to rest on the extreme edge of the road, her front half overhanging the abyss. General consternation. Then Porta put his foot down hard on the accelerator, the towline straightened and held, the tank began slowly edging back on to the road. Just as we were all starting to let out breaths of relief, the towline parted company from the tank, which went crashing down into the depths, and somehow managed to take little Muller down with her. God knows how it happened. For a few moments we remained silent and stunned, and as usual it was Alte who was the first to pull himself together.
    'How much petrol have we?'
    Porta considered the matter.
    'Just about enough to clean Little John's trousers.'
    'That's O.K., then,' said Heide, cheerfully. That should mean there's enough to take us all the way to Siberia and back.'
    Alte rounded on him.
    'Do you mind? This is no laughing matter. I want to know exactly how much