LITMIR.BIZ

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God, for what sins? Do help me, please!» – Malcovich thought.

      – Hands on the hood! Feet astride! – one of the soldiers started probing Andrei’s jacket.

      He took out his passport, certificate and wallet:

      – Andrei Andreievich Malcovich. Born in 1966 in Volgograd. Single. No children. – the soldier read aloud the passport data.

      Then opened the military certificate, but read it to himself. After thinking a bit the soldier said:

      – Comrade Captain, excuse us for the delay. You may be free!

      «Good heavens! They could have let me go before! Thanks, God!» – Malcovich thought.

      And then when Malcovich sat behind the wheel and turned the ignition key the second soldier offered him as if reluctantly:

      – Do you mind opening the trunk? Just a formality. Just to be sure. And you may go further.

      Malcovich left his fingers on the key for a while. Slowly, with dignity he turned his head towards the car-window and asked:

      – What?

      – Open the trunk I said! – repeated the patrol soldier.

      «Good Lord! What bad have I done?!» – a desperate thought flashed by in Andrei’s head.

      Humming the tune of «There is an isle of Bad Luck in the ocean», Andrei switched off the ignition, put out the key, opened the door and said rapidly:

      – Well, kids! Let’s arrange it! I’ll pay! 500 to each! I’m in a hurry you know! They stop and check me at every post! I’m exhausted to open and close it all the time! One and the same everywhere! I’ve lost half an hour here. I was to be in Vedeno yesterday. So what shall we do? – Malcovich tried to take out his wallet. The second patrol soldier got on the alert.

      – Take off your money! Open!

      Malcovich heaved a sigh and started opening the trunk… Yawning the patrol soldier wanted to close his mouth with his hand to be decent, but suddenly whistled out and cried to his friend:

      – Oh, Vasya! Here’s an arsenal! Guns of all kinds! Just look!

      While the patrol soldier was going to Andrei’s car, thoughts were whirling around in his head. Andrei was unable to concentrate on anything.

      – OK, I’ll tell you though I mustn’t. These arms are for the commandant’s office of the Northern airport. You know our guys are killed and the Chechens «re grabbing our arms as a trophy. The detachment commanders are in trouble. The office lacks a whale of arms! But it’s useless to explain to those fat-assed generals in Moscow and Rostov that we are losing arms in battle. In battle I say! So I’m going to save my old friends – to refill the arsenal to cut it short!

      – This tale will be good for your lawyer, Captain! In court! And then we are surprised why the militants have Russian arms! – said that Vasya and spit scornfully on the move. He convoyed Malcovich to the post cabin, to call the militia from Mozdok, «for detaining an offender».

      Chapter 5

      Nevertheless Lieutenant Garov, 23 years of age, left his native stanitsa. «Maybe, my wife will understand me, – he thought sitting on a pile of rolled canvas tents near a porthole of the plane „Rostov – Grozny“, – Anyway, other officers’ wives share life with their husbands. They have to travel with them and put up with their duties, don’t they?».

      – Oh, young lieutenant! Flying for the first time? – a tender-hearted old man near him cried out.

      – Yes, first, – Alex nodded.

      – Want some water? I have some mineral water left. Have a drink?!

      – No, thanks. I have myself. – Alex shouted in response and half closed his eyes as if he were dosing…

      When in that Lera’s Opel he took her passionately, even violently he couldn’t imagine he would be her first man. Just think: a young lady drives along the deserted highway, then picks up a stranger and – what’s more! – is ready to give in to him… Alex wouldn’t have remembered her the next morning if he hadn’t discovered some blood on his trunks taking a shower and hadn’t compared this with Lera’s cry «Oh, it hurts!» when she lost her virginity.

      – Mum! Do you know the Lavrovs?

      – Of course I know! Everybody knows them! He is a market director, and she is the Chief public prosecutor.

      – Oh, God! What I’ve done!

      – What’s wrong, my boy? – Mother didn’t hear her son’s exclamation for the water was running in the shower cabin.

      – Nothing special!.. Mum, I’m hungry! Awfully hungry!

      The next evening he was waiting for Lera near the kindergarten. When she appeared the last beam of sunset fell right on his face. So he screwed his eyes a bit:

      – Hello!

      Suddenly Lera spoke in a manly voice:

      – Kid, wake up! Wake up! We’ve just arrived. The flight is over.

      Alex moved abruptly and opened his eyes. The warm-hearted old man was over him:

      – We’ve come I say. Had a nap? Well, don’t hurry. We have a lot of time to disembark. They won’t take you back on board. They’ll fly back only tomorrow. With the dead. Here – with alive, back – with dead. Alive and dead. As the title of that novel. By the way, who’s the author of it? Some Russian chap… Ugh… I forgot. Slipped my mind. Oh, my cabbage head! Don’t you remember, lieutenant? – The old man was smiling.

      Garov was ready to hit him at the jaw. He clinched his fists, but the old man noticed that and changed his face and tone.

      – Please, don’t be angry for my words, – he said. – Neither you nor I want death and war. Neither you nor I started killing people. Others began that war – those who drive in luxurious cars and sit in cozy armchairs. They don’t see any blood, any grief, they’re just getting money. But it’s always not enough for them. They don’t care a straw who is me and who is you! Their fat life is the only thing they care! They’re not at war like Napoleon. Alas, guys like you are merely cannon fodder. Ad you’ll go to make exploits! What for? For their benefit?!

      Alex couldn’t deny it. He was listening to the old man gloomily. He undid and clenched his fists.

      The old man stopped speaking for some time, then continued in a quiet voice:

      – I met Nino, my future wife on the 9th of May. Then it became a Victory day you know. She was just a girl. She left school and was going to enter the institute. But the war began. I was in a trench near Stalingrad in 1942 when I got a small parcel. Many soldiers got such parcels. So I opened it and saw a pair of knitted woolen socks. There was a photo and a small triangle letter in one of them… Our women in the rear gathered what they could for the parcels and sent them to the front line. It was Nino who’ d knitted the socks. Besides, she looked ahead: she would marry the man who would get those socks. She told me that later when our son was one… Then I looked at her photo – a smiling pretty girl she was. That photo touched my heartstrings. I recalled my dear home, cosy and warm. So I read her letter, learned what her name was. As it turned out, we’d lived in the same street in Grozny before the war. Strange as it may seem, the war helped me to find my love. So I answered her. We wrote to each other till the victory. In April, 45 I got wounded and was taken to hospital. Was discharged on the 1st of May, could walk on crutches only. Was sent back home. Nino came to meet me at the railway station, brought me a bouquet of tulips. In a year our son was born.

      The old man paused. Then he continued his

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