Kyabine closed the watch and handed it over. Pavel put it back in its place by his head.
‘What is that?’ the Evdokim kid asked Kyabine.
Kyabine didn’t know how to answer him. So Pavel answered for him: ‘It’s a watch.’
‘Yeah,’ Kyabine said. ‘It’s a watch.’
The kid must have been thinking that the soldiers of the Red Army kiss their watches before they fall asleep. I didn’t like that idea. I asked Pavel to pass it to me for a moment. I opened it and I handed it to the kid so he could see the photograph inside. Then I closed it again and gave it back to Pavel, explaining to the kid that it was just the photograph of the woman that we cared about. That it was nice to sleep with her and that she brought us luck. And with that, I blew out the lamp and covered myself with the blanket.
For a while after that, there was silence. Then, in the darkness, Pavel asked: ‘So tell me, lad, what did you see today?’
He was talking to the Evdokim kid, of course. About the things that he wrote in his notebook. The kid took his time before answering, and Pavel was impatient.
‘So?’
‘I wrote that we ran after some ducks,’ the kid said.
‘And that we fired at them?’ Pavel asked.
‘Yes,’ the kid said. Cautiously, he added: ‘And that you missed them.’
‘Well, that’s the truth,’ Pavel said. Next, he asked: ‘Did you say that we stole a horse?’
I heard the dry grass rustling under the kid’s shoulders. Embarrassed, he answered: ‘Yeah, I said that.’
‘That’s the truth too,’ Pavel said calmly.
The kid must have felt reassured by that, because we heard him raising himself up on one elbow and then he went on: ‘And I said that it escaped before everyone had had a turn riding it, and that that was a shame.’
We all approved this in silence.
Abruptly Kyabine asked: ‘Did you say how fast Sifra reassembles his rifle?’
‘No, I didn’t say that,’ the kid replied.
‘Shit, you should have done,’ Kyabine said, sounding very disappointed. ‘Anybody can reassemble a rifle, but nobody can do it as fast as Sifra. And he can do it without even seeing the pieces.’
Then, to Sifra, he said: ‘Eh, wouldn’t you like him to say it?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied Sifra in his soft voice.
‘Oh Sifra!’ said Kyabine sadly.
And so, in order not to upset Kyabine, Sifra said: ‘All right, yeah, I would like him to say it.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, Kyabine.’
‘Did you hear that?’ Kyabine asked the kid excitedly. ‘He’d like it!’
‘Yeah.’
‘So you won’t forget?’
‘No, I won’t forget.’
Kyabine’s satisfaction floated through the tent like steam. Nobody spoke now.
The kid seemed to be waiting for one of us to speak to him again. But, as nothing happened, as nobody said a word, he lay down and stopped moving.
The silence and the darkness covered us.
Then suddenly, almost in a whisper: ‘I wrote at the end that we had a good day.’
It was very strange and sweet to hear him say that, because, my God, it was true, wasn’t it? It had been a good day. I wished the lamp was still lit so I could see the effect of the kid’s words on Pavel, Kyabine and Sifra.
I could tell that nobody was going to say anything else that evening. All of us were probably thinking about what the kid had written in his notebook. Because it had been the last thing we talked about that day, and because none of us knew how to write. Well, I knew a little bit, but I was the only one. And I only knew certain letters — the ones that had been painted in red on the tree trunks when they were delivered to Ovanes’ sawmill. They said where the wood had come from. There was a different letter for each district. That’s how I came to learn them.
I hadn’t used my letters for a long time. But they were still familiar to me. Every time I saw them somewhere, they caught my eye. On crates of ammunition or on the sides of trucks, there was always writing. I didn’t know what the words meant, but the letters that I knew leapt out at me as soon as I saw them. And it’s funny, but I always wondered what they were doing there. And straight away I would hear, muffled as if it were coming through a wall, the sound of Ovanes’ band saw.
36
WE WERE BARELY out of bed before Kyabine started bustling about like a man on a mission. He’d slung Sifra’s rifle over his shoulder and he was dusting off his blanket. I stood outside, watching him, wondering what had got into him, and I stamped my feet because it was cold that morning. Around us, steam rose from the other tents and fires were lit to boil water.
Pavel was standing next to me, his coat buttoned up to the collar. ‘What the hell are you doing, Kyabine?’
Kyabine did not reply. He’d covered the wooden crate with his blanket and was now smoothing it down with the flat of his hand.
When Sifra returned from pissing behind the tent, Kyabine pointed to one of the sleepers and said: ‘Sit down, Sifra.’
‘Why?’ Sifra asked.
‘Oh, please!’ Kyabine begged.
Sifra sat on the sleeper and Kyabine told him to wait. Next, he called out to the Evdokim kid, who was still inside the tent. The kid came out and Kyabine gestured for him to sit down on the sleeper facing Sifra. Then he put Sifra’s rifle on the blanket that covered the crate and said: ‘Go on, Sifra, do it one more time, so the kid can see how you do it again.’
Everybody understood now.
Out of kindness, Sifra did what he was asked. He disassembled his rifle and carefully lined up the pieces on the blanket. Kyabine stood behind him and, as he put his hands over Sifra’s eyes, he said to the kid: ‘Watch this again, because I don’t want you to forget anything. I want you to write exactly how Sifra does it. His skill and all that, you know?’
The kid nodded. Kyabine put his hands over Sifra’s eyes. Sifra groped with his hands until he found the first piece, and then it began. Sifra’s agile fingers went to work. All the way through, Kyabine watched the kid to make sure he didn’t miss anything. When the rifle was reassembled, he dropped his big hands to Sifra’s shoulders and stared questioningly at the kid. He wanted to be sure that he had followed Sifra’s feat, from beginning to end. The kid nodded and said: ‘Got it.’
‘You’re sure?’ Kyabine asked. ‘You saw all of it?’
‘Yes,’ the kid replied.
Kyabine leaned down towards Sifra and said: ‘You told me yesterday, that you’d like it.’
‘Yes, Kyabine,’ Sifra replied.
‘When are you going to write it?’ Kyabine asked the kid.
‘This morning.’
‘You’ll remember?’
‘Definitely.’
‘All the details, I mean,’ Kyabine said.
The kid touched his index finger to his forehead to indicate that all the details were in there.
37
THEN SUDDENLY THERE were noises coming from all over the camp. People started to move around and talk outside the tents. Our commander appeared in front of the company office. Sergeant Ermakov was with him. We tried to overhear what was being said. Finally the news reached us. We were leaving that night, one hour after Kossarenko’s company. We were supposed to follow them from a distance. The order from the general staff had arrived last night. We lowered our eyes as if it was our fault. I just had time to see Kyabine’s neck turn red. We kept staring at the ground and withdrew within ourselves, tense and motionless.
‘What?’ Kyabine asked. ‘When do we go?’ His head gently bobbed as he spoke and his voice was full of fear.
He’d heard the news, just like we had. But he needed one of us to confirm it for him. I decided to do it myself.