ESL Blogs

The war was nearing its climax. The greatest battle of tanks would soon be shaking the earth and the enemy soldiers no longer thought themselves to be supermen, and their opponents to be Untermenschen. The front was dozens of times closer than their homeland and it made  the soldiers look sullen and grave.

They committed no atrocities in the village, only one person was shot for some unknown cause, maybe just to keep the locals in fear. When they came, the first thing they did was to throw the owners of the largest and best houses out and drive away the cattle. So the homeless had to seek shelter from their relatives or neighbours, or huddle together in barns, or make dugouts. The villagers did their best to avoid encountering the fascist soldiers. There was no visiting each other, no playing in the street for kids. Getting wood for cooking and something to eat were the reasons for going outside.

Katerina was occupying  a shed together with her cousin’s family. There were eleven of them crowding in the little space: Katerina’s two daughters, her nephew and her little grandson,  her cousin’s mother and her fours kids, and the two women. Their sons and husbands were in the army, and the only man was that nephew, a big lad of twenty-five. Nobody took him for a man, though, for he had a brain of a five-year-old boy, and that is why wasn’t recruited to the army. Katerina had a hard time looking after him , keeping him inside for fear that he would catch the eye of some soldier. She used to talk to him while cooking or cleaning, answering his endless questions.

That day Katerina was busy making dough for flat cakes when she heard a loud man’s voice speaking in broken Russian. She looked out of the tiny window and almost fainted: a tall soldier was saying to the elder of her two daughters , Natasha, : “Komm, malenka, komm!” using his gun as a pointer. He pushed her slightly ahead of him and they moved up the street. Katerina  fell on the bench sobbing silently.

About three weeks ago two fascists came to them on their usual route around the village in search for eggs or any other victuals. Natasha happened to be outside and one of the men shouted something and ran after her with a bayonet. The girl slipped into the dog’s house, luckily, it was a big one. The soldier obviously meant to kill her and was stopped by his companion, an older man. After some talking and gesticulating he took his murderous friend by the arm and led him away.

What could it be now? Natasha was thirteen but she didn’t look  it. She was skinny and pale, due to the typhoid fever that she had in winter. Because of that fever she walked in a strange way, raising her knees  high as if there was some obstacle on the ground. Her soft black curly hair was the only attractive thing that remained in her.

Natasha was walking like a robot. Fear had killed all her thoughts and made her face a stone mask of terror. They  came inside a house that was full of tobacco smoke and those foreign voices . There were ten, or maybe fifteen men in the room and at seeing the girl they seemed to brighten up.

The soldier that came with Natasha pushed her to the right wall and pointed to the bench saying something. She looked down and saw a tub full of used handkerchiefs: dirty, slimy, with yellowish and green snots on them. One of the men added some water and handed to the girl a piece of dark soap. More handkerchiefs were thrown into the tub. So she was to wash them all! Natasha clenched her teeth and started washing. It took all her strength not to vomit right into that tub.

Years afterwards, Natasha could hardly bring herself to touching a used handkerchief. Her landlady  called her ironically “princess from the village” when she saw the expression on Natasha’s face.