BY THE TIME we got back to the camp, the morning was over and the sun was high in the sky. It was lunchtime. The kitchen had been built in the pine forest. There was a stone hearth and some trestles with planks resting on them. The saucepans, buckets and ladles were hung from nails in the trees. Behind this you could see the company office, which we had built under a canopy of branches.
The cook was so happy that we’d brought him back a pig that he gave us extra portions, along with a good pinch of powdered tea, which Sifra held in the hollow of his palm, like some precious treasure. It was rare to have tea there.
We asked Sergeant Ermakov if he wanted to come and drink it with us. He replied: ‘Don’t worry about me.’
We didn’t understand what he meant by that. We went to our tent, Pavel lit a fire, and we ate our food and listened to the boiling water whistle in our kettle.
We quickly finished eating so we could enjoy our tea.
But we had a problem. It happened every time we managed to get some tea. What the cook had given us was, as usual, only enough to make about half a cup of real tea. And there were four of us.
So, if we added a lot of water, the tea wouldn’t have much taste. If we didn’t add much, it would taste like real tea but there would only be enough for one or two mouthfuls each. Sometimes we spent a long time discussing this before we made the tea.
This time there was no dispute and it went a bit faster. All four of us agreed that it would be better to make a small amount of tea. That way, it would be nice and strong, the way we liked it. We kept it in our mouths until it was tepid. Only then did we swallow it. It didn’t last long, and as soon as we’d swallowed it we all wished we could go back one minute in time.
Barely had we finished drinking that tea before we became nostalgic for it.
But, all the same, it was better than no tea at all.
15
WE PUT OUT the fire. We rolled up our blankets, tucked them under our arms and set off for the pond. When we reached the pile of sleepers, just as we were about to go into the field, Pavel said: ‘We can’t go to the pond that way any more.’
We stared at him. We didn’t understand. He pointed out the path we’d made by tramping down the grass and explained to us that if we kept taking that path we would end up showing the way to the pond to the rest of the company. And if that happened… farewell pond and farewell tranquillity.
We climbed onto the railway track and followed it for half a mile or so. Then, leaving gaps of several hundred feet between us, we went into the field. Spaced out like that, we had more chance of finding the pond because we’d cover more ground than if we all walked together.
The grass was so tall that we couldn’t see where we were going. We advanced, each of us alone, solitary, as if none of us had ever had any comrades. I am saying this for all four of us because I feel certain that Pavel, Kyabine and Sifra felt the same way I did as we moved blindly forward through that field. That was why, after a while, we started yelling at each other at the tops of our voices. We heard Kyabine calling out: ‘Pavel! Sifra! Benia!’
And we called out in turn: ‘Kyabine! Kyabine! Kyabine!’
‘Oh lads, I’m over here!’ Kyabine shouted.
‘You’re over there, Kyabine!’ we replied.
And Kyabine in his booming voice: ‘Yes, I’m here!’
‘So, have you found it?’
And in the same thunderous voice, Kyabine answered: ‘Not yet, but I’m here.’
It was better like that. We continued to advance blindly, but the sound of our voices did us good. We had comrades again. Birds flew up in front of us. One of those types of birds that nest in grass.
Suddenly Pavel yelled out: ‘Kyabine!’
‘Yes, Pavel, what?’ Kyabine replied.
And Pavel yelled as loud as he could: ‘You big Uzbeki idiot!’
Kyabine’s laughter echoed above the tall grass.
We continued moving forward and suddenly we heard Sifra: ‘I found it!’
‘Where?’
‘Over here!’
We converged on him. He was smiling as he watched us arrive. He was very happy that he was the one who’d found it.
The pond was calm. There was no wind.
We approached the water. We could see the bottom of the pond today.
We spread our blankets on the ground and lay on top of them. The sun was hot, and soon we took off our boots and our coats and folded up the coats so we could rest our heads on them. All of us except for Sifra, who remained sitting and disassembled his rifle, carefully lining the pieces up on his blanket.
I lay on my side and closed my eyes. The air smelled of the pond, of mud and grass, and everything was peaceful.
I’ve already said that this was a precious place.
I never grow weary of saying that.
‘Please, Benia, give me some tobacco!’
That was Kyabine, of course.
I was about to say no so that he would have to beg me. But then I remembered the sack of potatoes that he’d slung over his shoulder and carried for me while also carrying the bundle of leeks.
I sat up and gave him what he needed to roll a cigarette. He couldn’t believe it. He stared rapturously at the tobacco. I lay back down and closed my eyes.
When I woke up, there was no one else near me. Kyabine was in the middle of the pond, carrying Sifra on his shoulders. Sifra was hanging onto Kyabine’s hair because he was afraid of the water.
Pavel was sitting on the opposite bank, on the other side of the pond. When he noticed that I was awake, he stood up and came over to me.
So did Kyabine and Sifra. They waded back to the bank, with Sifra clinging tightly to Kyabine’s hair until the very last moment. Not until Kyabine was standing on the sand did he let go.
We washed our blankets.
We soaked them in the water then rubbed them with sand. We rinsed them and then rubbed them with sand again.
We rinsed them one last time and spread them out on the grass. The sun was so hot that steam rose from them.
16
WE WENT BACK to the camp with our clean, dry blankets. Near the pile of sleepers we bumped into Yassov, the hand sculptor, just as he was stepping over the railway tracks.
He accompanied us back to the camp. He told us that he’d been to sell his hands to the men in Kossarenko’s company. They were camped on the plain too, but on the other side of the train tracks. Sometimes we could see the smoke from their fires in the distance.
‘Did you sell any?’ Kyabine asked Yassov.
‘Yes, one,’ Yassov replied.
‘What did you get?’ Kyabine asked.
‘This!’
And he took half a dozen ready-rolled cigarettes from his pocket. They were thin, but they were cigarettes all the same. Kyabine stared at them enviously. Yassov put them back in his pocket and said: ‘We’re not going to stay here much longer.’
‘What?’ said Pavel. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘We’re going to leave this place soon. Kossarenko told me.’
‘How soon?’ asked Pavel.
‘A few more days and we’ll be gone.’
We believed Yassov. This was bad news. We continued walking in silence. Then I asked Yassov if he knew where we were going. He didn’t. We would be leaving soon — that was all he’d been able to learn from Kossarenko.
When we got back to the camp, we were sombre and silent. How many days did we have left to go to the pond and peacefully play dice outside our tent whenever we felt like it?
We took our blankets into the tent and went for a walk around the camp, mess tins in hand, while we waited for the cook to bang his ladle against his bucket. Our mood was still gloomy after the news about our imminent departure.
Outside the tents, men lit fires. They boiled water in the hope that there would be tea tonight. Some of them played dice outside their tents. There were a few men that we knew better than the others. We used to chat with them sometimes. We walked up to them to watch them play.