[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

'Okay, I'll do that.'
'The tankmen of the 35th Division are keeping an eye on you. They
may do the dirty on you, and the political creeps aren't asleep either.'
'Who do you mean?'
'Fomin, from the second long-range reconnaissance group, and Zhebrak
who's with the tankmen.'
178
'I had my suspicions about them. I think Fomin's in contact with the
"specials", and Zhebrak's the political deputy's lapdog.'
Then there's Gareyev from radio reconnaissance.'
'Oh, him, I know about him.'
Then there's Kurakin and Akhmadulin from the BRDM Company.
Kurakin for sure and Akhmadulin looks very like it.'
'I did think about them, but I wasn't sure.'
'And your personal driver, of course.'
'Oh, go on!'
'He's absolutely typical!'
'Have you got anything concrete to go on?'
'No, I just feel it in my bones. I've a special eye. I've never been
mistaken yet. Do be careful, Sasha, the reconnaissance battalions are
filled to overflowing with political spies. It's quite normal of course: how
could it be otherwise?'
'One more for the road?'
'Okay, but this'll be the last one.'
'Your health, Kolya.'
Next day, the flood of money cartons noticeably subsided and the day
after it stopped altogether. But the oppressive feeling of heavy
responsibility did not pass. Zhuravlev knew how difficult it is sometimes
to give an account of even one rouble, and here were all the vaults filled
with gold, currency and various kinds of paper money. If some
commission or other arrived, and all this had to be accounted for, a whole
year would not be enough to do the job. And suppose something was
missing? How could he account for all these cartons? Who knew how
many millions there were? A lot of them were not even sealed. The future
possibilities of all this deprived him of his sleep for nights. Zhuravlev lost
his appetite, became pale, thin and pinched. The town continued to
seethe. All his friends were being assaulted by volleys of stones and
insults, the tanks were busy dispersing the dissident elements and trying
to locate underground radio stations. They were also continuing their
agitation work and preaching and defending themselves against all
comers. All those who knew where Zhuravlev was were extremely
envious. The nickname 'Banker' stuck firmly. But, all the time, he was
getting thinner, paler and more envious of those who were out on the
streets.
Three times a day, a driver brought him food: unheard-of American
tinned food, fragrant bread, delicious French butter. 'You'd better eat
something, Comrade Major.' 'Okay. Off you go.'
179
'Comrade Major, you just tell me what you'd like and I can provide you
with anything you want! We've never seen anything like it.'
'Okay, okay. Off you go!'
'Comrade Major, may I just ask you one thing?'
'What's that?'
'Comrade Major, allow me to go just two blocks down the road in a
tank.'
'What for?'
'There's a chemist's shop. But if I don't go in a tank our patrols will
stop me or else the Czechs will bash my head in.'
'Why do you want a chemist's shop? Have you got a dose of the clap?'
'No, Comrade Major. I want some contraceptives. I'll get some for both
of us.'
'I don't need them, and what the hell do you need them for?'
The driver smirked and motioned towards the bulging paper cartons.
'My right fuel tank is empty. No one has counted the money. We could
invest a couple of million in contraceptives and put them into the fuel
tank. Nobody would guess! Do you know how much money you can stuff
into one contraceptive? It stretches ..."
'You dirty scum!' Zhuravlev grabbed his pistol. 'Throw your automatic
on the floor! Face the wall! Escort, come here!'
'I was only joking, comrade.'
'Shut your mouth, you scum!'
Late that same evening, the divisional chief of staff and three others
dressed in civilian clothes, plus an escort, forced their way towards the
bank in a tracked personnel carrier.
'What's going on here Zhuravlev?' mumbled the chief of staff in
dissatisfied tones.
'Comrade Lieutenant-Colonel, I have arrested driver Malekhin for
attempted looting.'
'The comrades will investigate the matter. Where is he?'
Zhuravlev led them along a corridor towards the central hall. All three
stopped dead in their tracks.
'We urgently need a radio station!'
'The driver is locked in that room.'
'We need a radio and not a driver!' the young shaven-headed 'comrade'
interrupted rudely.
Zhuravlev was relieved of his duties quite suddenly and without any
trouble whatsoever.
Half an hour after the 'comrades' had managed to contact their
leadership, another two BTR-50Ps, packed full of officers and civilians,
180
arrived at the bank. Zhuravlev spent the rest of the night on external
guard duty at the bank. He was never allowed inside again not even to go
to the lavatory.
Early the following morning, a tank battalion from the 14th Motor-
Rifle Division, which was part of the army commander's reserve,
approached the bank.
The tank battalion commander gave Zhuravlev an order personally
signed by the 20th Guards Army commander, which instructed Zhuravlev
to take his reconnaissance battalion out of the town immediately.
Zhuravlev sighed with relief. The order also mentioned that the part of
his battalion at present guarding the bridges was also temporarily
removed from his command, so he had nothing to worry about at all.
And, merely to remove one long-range reconnaissance company and one
tank platoon, was not a difficult task.
It took only ten minutes to get ready. Zhuravlev formed up his scouts
and then checked their number, armament and ammunition. The tank
engines began to roar . . . but at that very moment the tall crew-cut
'comrade' appeared on the bank's steep steps.
'Hey, Major! Wait!'
The insolence shown by the 'comrades', especially in the presence of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

forum-gsm.htw.pl