Rabbit, Soldier, Angel, Thief by Katrina Nannestad

Author:Katrina Nannestad
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ABC Books
Published: 2021-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

Papa Scruff and the lucky comrades who have made it through the day return and I become a busy beetle. I use the pages of War and Peace to roll cigarettes. I pull off boots, unravel stinky footwraps, rub feet until the icy toes thaw, then cover them with quilts and blankets. I fetch soup and tea for the soldiers who are too tired or too sore to walk. I find the faces that are hard with sorrow and do my best to make them soften. Some I wipe clean with a warm, damp cloth. Others I soap up and shave. And some I simply kiss – a cheek, a forehead, an eyelid, a nose.

I hold Itchy Lutsenko’s hand while Natasha cleans and dresses a wound on his leg. ‘You’re being a big brave boy,’ I tell him. ‘I’m very, very proud of you.’ When Natasha is finished, I kiss him on the forehead, then kiss Natasha on the cheek, and sing them both a song Cook taught me last week. It’s called ‘The Dugout’ and it’s about a soldier, just like Itchy, but without so many lice.

Igor is now awake, so I bring him a tin of soup and a cup of tea. I sing him my favourite song about the little birch tree. Invincible Ivan lumbers over with his harmonica and, one by one, our comrades gather around and sing. The heaviness they carried home fills with fluffy, sing-song happiness. It fills and puffs up and lifts from their shoulders and floats away.

I drag Igor out of bed and make him dance the Kalinka. Windy Rutskov dances with us. Even Grumpy Boris joins in – until he falls flat on his bottom and grumbles about the slippery rat guts I’ve splattered across the floor.

We dance and laugh and sing, on and on, until Igor’s eyes are shining and his cheeks are full of colour. I know that the ice in his tummy has melted and he’s no longer worried about Germans in the shadows. Taking his notebook out of his pocket, he starts scribbling.

‘What are you writing?’ I ask, trying to catch a glimpse of the words.

He presses the notebook to his chest and says, ‘Just the recipe for Cook’s German shepherd stew. I’ll send it home to my mama, so she can make it for me when the war’s over.’

‘You should print the recipe in the newspaper!’ I cry. ‘And you can tell the story about Cook fighting off millions of Germans with nothing more than a sack of potatoes and a stirring spoon!’ My heart flutters with excitement. ‘You could write a story about each and every one of my comrades! They’re all heroes.’

I grab Igor by the hand and drag him to Natasha. ‘This is Private Natalya Federova,’ I say, ‘the most beautiful medic in the Red Army.’

Igor shakes Natasha’s hand and smiles, but he’s not writing anything down. I’ll need to make her story as exciting as Cook’s.

‘Private Natalya Federova is also the bravest and strongest medic in the Red Army!’ I shout.

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