Red Army by Ralph Peters by Red Army

Author:Red Army [Army, Red]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-12-09T17:21:54+00:00

169

Ralph Peters

170

RED ARMY

And Malinsky saw that Anton had escaped his grasp. The boy slid away from him, sleighing helplessly down the steep slope, falling backward, skidding out of control, looking up at the old man with reproachful eyes.

Malinsky ran, tumbling, after the child.

His son. His only son.

The dark crowds watched with no evidence of emotion.

Malinsky struggled to run, losing his balance, tripping again and again.

He chased madly after the boy, who always remained just out of his grasp. They were going so fast, there was no way to stop. Momentum drew Malinsky into a headlong, out-of-control downhill run.

"I'm old. Paulina, I'm too old," Malinsky called out. Yet he could not understand how it had come to be. He could make no sense of it.

He grabbed at the child, never quite reaching the boy's delicate limbs.

Ahead, somehow, somewhere, he knew there was a precipice. There was a great precipice, and there were only moments before they would reach it and topple into space, and still the dark crowds watched in silence, unwilling to help him save his child.

"Help me," Malinsky shouted, half an order, half a plea. "For the love of god, help me. It's my son."

But the boy slithered away in silence, skating down the icy mountainside on his back, flailing his small arms as he sought to stop himself.

Malinsky could see Anton's eyes: large, dark, wounded child's eyes. He knew that he had failed the boy, that he would always fail him. Then they were sailing through dark space, beneath a gruesome, spinning golden sky.

"Comrade Front Commander," Chibisov's voice called him back, insisting that he wake. "Comrade Front Commander, wake up."

Malinsky felt Chibisov's small, firm grasp on his forearm. Just before he opened his eyes, Malinsky stirred and clapped his own larger hand over that of the chief of staff, holding it there a moment too long, reassured by its human warmth.

"The Germans are counterattacking Trimenko," Chibisov said. His voice was crisply urgent, but there was no trace of panic. Chibisov at his best, Malinsky thought. "The Dutch are trying to get at him from the north, as well. Dudorov has already identified a fresh German division and at least one Dutch brigade that had not been committed previously.

They're trying to pinch off Trimenko's penetration."

Malinsky regained his faculties. "Only one German division?"

"So far."

Malinsky shook his head. "They think small. They've lost their vision, Pavel Pavlovitch. Did the Sixteenth Tank make it in?"

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