And Novikov, who hadn't yet understood this, was surprised to find himself in agreement for once with Getmanov and Nyeudobnov. He no longer felt irritated or resentful; he seemed quite naturally to want the same things as they did.
If his tanks advanced faster, the invaders would indeed be driven out of a few Ukrainian villages a few hours sooner. It would make him happy to see the joy on the faces of the children and old men. Some old peasant woman would fling her arms round him as though he were her own son; his eyes would fill with tears.
But, at the same time, new passions were ripening; the spirit of the war was changing. What had been crucial in Stalingrad and during 1941 was coming to be of merely secondary importance. The first person to understand this change was the man who on 3 June, 1941, had said: 'My brothers and sisters, my friends…'
Getmanov and Nyeudobnov were egging Novikov on; he shared their excitement, but for some strange reason kept putting off his departure. It was only as he got into his jeep that he realized it was because he was expecting Zhenya.
It was over three weeks since he had heard from her. Each time he made his way back to HQ, he hoped to find Zhenya waiting for him on the steps. She had come to share in his life. She was with him when he talked to his brigade commanders, when he was called to the telephone by Front Headquarters, when he drove up to the front line and felt his tank trembling at the shell-bursts like a young horse. Once, telling Getmanov the story of his childhood, he had felt as though he were telling it to her. He would say to himself: 'God, I really stink of vodka. Zhenya would notice in no time.' Or: 'Now, if only she could see that!'
He had wondered anxiously what she would think if she knew that he had sent a major before the military tribunal. Among the clouds of tobacco smoke and the voices of telephonists in an observation post on the front line, among the gunfire and the exploding bombs, he would be thinking of her…
Sometimes he felt jealous of her past. Sometimes he dreamed of her; he would wake up and be unable to get back to sleep. At times he felt sure their love would last for ever; at others he was afraid of being left on his own again.
As he got into his jeep, he glanced round at the road leading back to the Volga; it was deserted. He suddenly thought angrily that she should have arrived long ago. Perhaps she had fallen ill? Once again he remembered the day in 1939 when he had heard the news of her marriage and almost shot himself. Why did he love her? He had had other women who were just as good. Was it a joy or a kind of sickness to think so obsessively about one person? It was a good thing he hadn't got involved with any of the girls on his staff. Yes, he had a clean slate. Though there had been one night three weeks ago… What if she stopped on the way and spent the night in that hut? The young woman might start talking to Zhenya. She might describe him and say: 'Yes, that colonel's a splendid fellow!' What nonsense goes through one's head, what nonsense!
50
Novikov returned to his headquarters at noon on the following day. He was aching all over – in the small of his back, in his neck and spine, – after being shaken about on icy, pot-holed roads that had been ploughed up by the treads of tanks. It was as though the soldiers had infected him with their own exhaustion, with the stupefaction they felt after so many days without sleep.
As they drew up, he saw a group of people standing on the porch. There was Yevgenia Nikolaevna standing beside Getmanov, watching the approaching jeep. He felt a flame burning into him, he gasped with a mad joy that was close to pain. He was about to leap out of the still-moving jeep when Vershkov, who was sitting behind him, said:
'So the commissar's taking the air with that doctor of his. We should take a photo of them. That would make his wife happy.'
Novikov went inside. He took the letter held out to him by Getmanov, turned it over, recognized Zhenya's handwriting, and stuffed it into his pocket.
'All right,' he said to Getmanov. 'I'll tell you how I see the situation.'
'But what about the letter? Don't you love her any longer?'
'Thank you. That can wait.'
Nyeudobnov came in and Novikov began.
'The only problem is with the men themselves. They're falling asleep in their tanks during combat. They're worn out. The brigade commanders included. Karpov's not too bad, but Byelov fell asleep while he was talking to me – he hasn't stopped for five days. The drivers and mechanics are falling asleep on the move. They're too exhausted even to eat.'
'But Pyotr Pavlovich,' Getmanov broke in, 'how do you see the general situation?'
'There's no risk of a counter-offensive in our sector. The Germans have lost their nerve. They're taking to their heels as fast as they can.'
As he spoke, he could feel the envelope between his fingers. He let it go for a moment and then quickly grasped it again; he was afraid it might escape from his pocket.
'Very well,' said Getmanov. 'That seems clear enough. Now listen to what I've got to say. The general and I have been right to the top. I spoke to Nikita Sergeyevich himself. He gave his word that we would not lose our air support.'
'But Khrushchev has no direct military authority,' said Novikov.
'Yes and no,' said Getmanov. 'The general's just received confirmation from Air Army Headquarters. The aircraft are staying with us.'
'And the roads aren't bad at all,' said Nyeudobnov hurriedly. 'The forces in the rear will catch up with us in no time. The main thing, comrade Lieutenant-Colonel, is that it's your own decision.'
'Now he's demoting me,' thought Novikov. 'He really must be worried.'
'Yes, gentlemen,' said Getmanov. 'It seems more and more as though we really will be the ones to begin the liberation of Mother Ukraine. I told Nikita Sergeyevich that our men are besieging their officers, that their greatest dream is to be called "The Ukrainian Corps".'
Novikov felt irritated by this falsehood. 'There's only one thing they're dreaming of,' he said, 'and that's having a few hours' sleep. Do you understand? They've been on the move for five days and five nights.'
'So it's been decided, has it?' said Getmanov. 'We're pressing on. Right?'
Novikov half-opened the envelope, stuck two fingers inside and felt the letter itself. His whole body ached to look again at the familiar handwriting.
'What I've decided,' said Novikov, 'is to call a halt for ten hours. The men need to recover their strength. They need a rest.'
'Ten hours!' said Nyeudobnov. 'We'll throw away everything if we lose ten hours.'
'Wait a moment,' said Getmanov. 'Let's just think about it a little.' His cheeks, his ears, even his neck were slowly turning red.
'I already have thought about it,' said Novikov with a slight laugh.
Getmanov exploded:
'To hell with them all! So what if they haven't had enough sleep! There'll be time enough for them to sleep… And you want to call a halt just because of that! You're dithering, Pyotr Pavlovich, and I protest! First you delay the beginning of the offensive. Now you want to put your men to bed. It's becoming quite a habit. I intend to report this to the Military Soviet. Do you think you're in charge of a kindergarten?'
'Wait a moment,' said Novikov. 'Wasn't it you who kissed me for not sending in the tanks until I'd knocked out the enemy artillery? You should put that in your report too.'
'You say I kissed you for that?' said Getmanov in astonishment. 'You must be mad!… Let me be quite frank. As a Communist, I feel disturbed that you, a man of the purest proletarian origin, should repeatedly allow yourself to be influenced by alien elements.'
'So it's like that, is it?' said Novikov, raising his voice. 'Very well then.'
He got to his feet, threw back his shoulders and shouted furiously: