The Dreamtime by Mstyslav Chernov

Author:Mstyslav Chernov
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Academic Studies Press
Published: 2022-09-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

A report of two three-hundreds—wounded men—came in over the radio.

The sun was low over the horizon and poured yellow light through the dusty glass. A cross rattled on the dashboard.

Their military-style Bukhanka van tore along the road. K. kept turning back to look at the soldiers with their rifles sticking out of the windows. The van was loaded to capacity with bullet cartridges and eighty-two-millimetre shells piled on top of water bottles and rations. The heavy load made the van creak.

At the deserted avenue leading to the train station, they turned onto a smaller road partly blocked by felled poplars. They entered the road to a railway crossing. On that spot there was what they called the “armoured train,” it was a row of freight carriages on an embankment. The carriages were used as a shield from incoming fire from Karachun Hill. One of the carriages had been pierced by a tank shell. The hill loomed ominously over the road.

Kolya had his foot down on the accelerator, but at the turn before the train, a UAZ jeep darted out to cut them off. Nikolai slammed the brake, bringing the vehicle to a halt with a screech and the soldiers behind tumbling noisily onto their freight. Nikolai exhaled with relief and swore. He tapped his finger at his temple contemptuously at the other driver and backed up. The UAZ stalled.

“Kolya, looks like someone has an even better car than yours,” said K. as he jumped out of the van.

The man at the wheel of the UAZ glanced nervously towards Karachun and again turned the key in the ignition.

“What have you got there?” asked K.

“I have four three-hundreds. They’re not doing too bad,” the driver said, frantically trying to start the car. “We’ve got some serious cases back at the front. Two of them.”

“We got a report of only two injured,” replied K. peering into the back of the UAZ. There were four soldiers seated there. One of them smiled as he clutched his shoulder.

K. gasped.

“Kostya, is that you?”

“Doc!” he shouted, climbing out of the car. They embraced like old friends.

“Ow, ow, careful, injury,” said Kostya, pointing to his shoulder. “Shrapnel.”

“Where’s your helmet?”

“Pff, what helmet.” Kostya waved his hand with a smile.

“You need a push. And we need to keep going.”

The soldiers who had come with K. arranged themselves behind the UAZ, but the van just kept sliding in the mud without moving forward an inch.

“Push! Push, boys!” the driver yelled.

A round of rifle fire pinged against the side of a railway carriage. The men threw themselves to the ground.

“Guys,” said Kostya. “We gotta hide. Fuck the UAZ. They’re going to light it up.”

K. nodded.

“I agree. Just wait here. We’ll unload, pick up the wounded guys and collect you on the way back. We should have enough room.”

“Ok, let’s do that,” said the driver.

K. and the soldiers ran back to their own van and drove at speed to the battlefield. The wounded men lay in a trench. Several soldiers were standing over them.

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