The People Immortal by Vasily Grossman

Author:Vasily Grossman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2022-09-27T00:00:00+00:00

17

THE COMMISSAR

In the morning Myshansky appeared at Bogariov’s forest command post.

“Good morning, Comrade Commissar,” he said cheerily. “Seems we meet again!”

Myshansky’s men were unshaven, their tunics were in tatters, and some were not carrying weapons.99 Myshansky looked little better; he had torn off the hook and top buttons of his tunic and unstitched the badges of rank from his collar. He was carrying neither map case nor dispatch case; evidently, he had discarded them so as not to look like a commander. He had even removed his revolver from its holster and stuffed it into a trouser pocket.

Sitting down beside Bogariov, he said quietly, “No doubt about it, Comrade Commissar, we’ve blundered into a classic encirclement. The only correct course of action, in my view, is to disperse and allow every man to find his own way across the front line.”

At these words, Bogariov felt the blood drain from his face; it was as if his cheeks had turned cold, white with rage.

“What’s got into your men?” he asked with apparent calm. “Why are they so badly turned out?”

“Why do you think?” Myshansky replied with a shrug. “We’re not a company of heroes. We stopped for the night in a forest glade. When the Germans sent up their flares, the men all dropped to the ground as if they were under a hurricane of fire.”

Bogariov stood up, shifting his weight heavily from one foot to the other. Myshansky remained as he was, sitting on the grass. Unaware that Bogariov’s face was contorted with rage, he went on, “You haven’t got a smoke, have you, Comrade Commissar? And yes, I think it has to be every man for himself. There’s no other way. We’ll never break through en masse.”

“Stand!” ordered Bogariov.

“What?” asked Myshansky.

“Stand!” Bogariov repeated, in a loud, authoritative voice.

Myshansky looked at Bogariov’s face and jumped to his feet.

“Stand to attention!” Bogariov bellowed. Looking at Myshansky with real hatred, he went on, “What do you think you look like? Is this how you report to a senior commander? Get yourself and your men into presentable shape straightaway. Not one unshaven soldier. Not a single torn shirt. Badges of rank on your collar tabs. In twenty minutes, form up your company and report to me, commander of a regular unit of the Red Army operating behind enemy lines, to whom you are now subordinate.”100

“Understood, Comrade Battalion Commissar!” Myshansky replied. Still failing to grasp that this was no joking matter, he continued, with a smile, “Only where can I find badges? We’re surrounded, in a forest. Do you want me to sew acorns to my collar tabs?”

Bogariov glanced at his watch and said slowly, “Within twenty minutes, if my orders have not been carried out, you will be shot before your company, beneath this tree.”

Only then did Myshansky sense the commissar’s unbending strength. Meanwhile, Bogariov’s scouts and gunners were questioning Myshansky’s men.

“You with the whiskers!” Morozov the famed gun-layer called out to one of them. “How old are you?”

“I was born in 1912,” the man replied in a whisper.

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