“That is not ours to question, comrade Kuznetsov,” answered the gruff voice of the senior lieutenant.
“Our orders come direct from the High Command. We can only trust that General Popov and his staff know how we can best serve the Rodina. And no matter where they might send us, we will go into battle without flinching. To die in the defense of the Motherland is to die the death of a hero!”
The infantryman was suddenly possessed by a violent fit of coughing, that brought bloody spittle to his cracked lips. As the medical corpsman bent down to attend to him, Mikhail and Alexander retreated to the boxcar’s opposite corner and sat down on the straw-covered floor.
“I still think Command has made a major screw-up,” said Mikhail in a forceful whisper.
“For the sake of Lenin, we belong at seal” “Easy, Misha,” cautioned his brother.
“Like the senior lieutenant says, we’re just going to have to trust in General Popov’s judgement. And who knows just what’s waiting for us outside of Luga?”
“One thing we can be certain of,” Mikhail said.
“It won’t be a submarine!”
Alexander sighed.
“My greatest fear is that the Motherland doesn’t have enough time to properly mobilize.
The Germans caught us completely off guard, and unless we can reorganize, they’ll continue to slice our forces to pieces.”
“Come now, brother,” Mikhail said with a grin.
“You’re beginning to sound like that scared old infantryman.
Have you so little faith in the power of our people?
We’ll drive this foe from our borders, just as our ancestors sent Napoleon’s legions home in defeat. The German supply lines are probably stretched so thin that a single spirited counterattack will turn the” A loud explosion from the outside suddenly sent the boxcar swaying from side to side and the distinctive staccato blast of the caboose-borne machine gun could be heard from the rear of the train. This was accompanied by the rousing voice of Senior Lieutenant Ryutin.
“Stuka attack! To your rifles, men!”
Another deep explosion sounded outside and the brothers rose to arm themselves with their newly issued carbines. Well acquainted with the workings of a rifle, they loaded their weapons, ran to the rear of the boxcar and climbed a ladder that led to a hinged door that had been cut into the ceiling. Scrambling through the opening, they crouched on the roof of the swaying boxcar.
The machine gun chattered behind them. Mikhail was first to spot the lone, silver-skinned, single-engine fighter in the process of sweeping down out of the cloudless blue sky.
“On the eastern horizon! It’s headed straight for us!”
“Surely they don’t expect us to shoot it out of the sky with rifles,” Alexander shouted.
“We don’t have much choice in the matter, do we, brother? Besides, all it takes is one well placed bullet to take the Stuka down. And perhaps one of us will be the lucky one to do it.”
Alexander raised the barrel of his rifle as the Stuka screamed toward them, strafing the train with a salvo of bullets. Several of the rounds crashed into the machine gun emplacement on the caboose, killing the two soldiers who had been manning it.
“Our only chance is that machine gun,” Mikhail yelled as the Stuka turned to begin another pass.
With the train steaming northward at top speed, they managed to jump onto the roof of the caboose. The sandbagged emplacement was covered with blood, as they pushed the dead gunners aside and took up positions behind the machine gun.
“It still looks operational,” Mikhail said as he fed in a fresh belt of ammunition. He was in the process of clearing the breech, when his brother called out excitedly.
“Here it comes! Out of the east!”
Mikhail gripped the trigger with both hands and swung the barrel up to meet the diving war plane. It was coming in head on, and Mikhail waited until he had its swirling propeller in view before pressing the trigger.
The machine gun bucked wildly, but with his brother’s help, he was able to stabilize the barrel. The sound of exploding shells rose with deafening intensity as the Stuka loomed like a giant winged beast, sweeping low over the surrounding forest of pines, on a collision course with the speeding train. With his machine gun still roaring, Mikhail raised his aim, centering the vibrating barrel on the aircraft’s cockpit. He could actually see the German pilot hunched over his controls, when the Stuka suddenly blew apart and disintegrated before his startled eyes. The heat of this mid-air blast singed Mikhail’s hair but that was of little consequence.
The brothers had stood up to the best that the Luftwaffe could throw at them, and had come out victorious.
The twins looked up as Senior Lieutenant Ryutin climbed down onto the caboose and offered his hand in congratulations.
“Thank the heavens I didn’t leave you two back at the rail yard,” said the grinning veteran.
“It takes a real man to face almost certain death like the two of you did. I’m proud to have you under my command. What do you say about scaring up some vodka? I don’t know about you two, but this old-timer needs a drink.”
A series of shrill blasts of the train whistle accompanied them as they climbed down into the boxcar. A bottle of clear, potent potato-distilled liquor materialized, and as the spirits were passed around, the senior lieutenant delivered a blow-by-blow description of their encounter with the Stuka. Mikhail humbly accepted the handshakes and hugs of his comrades. Yet after only a single sip of vodka, he seated himself on the straw-covered floor and fell soundly asleep and allowed his brother to take all the laurels of their victory.
Mikhail awoke several hours later. As his eyes opened, he realized the train had stopped moving. The boxcar was empty, and he stood up stiffly and went to the open doorway. Outside, he spotted his detachment gathered on a broad, clover-filled clearing. Behind them was a walled compound. A golden-domed cupola capped by a Russian Orthodox cross graced one of the structures that lay inside, and Mikhail knew they had reached their destination, the monastery of Tsarkoe Selo. The sun was high in the sky as he climbed down out of the boxcar and joined his comrades.
“The hero has awoken,” greeted Senior Lieutenant Ryutin.
“You’re just in time to hear the rest of our orders.
Make yourself comfortable, comrade Kuznetsov.
I’m certain that you’ll find this briefing most fascinating.”
As Mikhail sat down beside his brother, Ryutin cleared his throat and continued.
“As I was saying, because of the continued rapid approach of the German Sixth Army, Command has ordered us to this location to initiate an evacuation of certain state treasures that must be kept out of Nazi hands at all costs. Stored in the basement vault of the monastery behind us is a virtual fortune in jewelry, icons, and other ancient art masterpieces.
Of even greater importance are the five hundred gold bars that have also been held in safekeeping here.
Originally minted during the reign of Czar Nicholas II, the gold has been kept here as an emergency reserve, to aid the Motherland in times of crisis.
“Because of your spotless service records, you have been entrusted with the vital job of loading this collection onto the train we have just disembarked. Once this task has been completed, you will be responsible for providing security during the trip back to Leningrad. To be chosen for such a mission is a great honor. The Rodina is putting it’s trust in you to properly carry out this as18 signment in these trying times. You mustn’t let your Motherland down! So if there are no questions, we’d better get started. Time is of the essence. The Germans continue their advance, and have been reported as close as the neighboring village of Verduga.”