Mikhail listened as the locomotive’s powerful whistle cried out in the gathering twilight like a howling demon.
It was only after the curve was behind them that he noted what seemed to be a decrease in the train’s forward speed. The loss of velocity was gradual at first, and Mikhail was wondering if it all wasn’t a trick of his imagination, when the ear-piercing squeal of the brakes told him otherwise. Thrown violently off balance by this unexpected loss of speed, he started to tumble forward.
Only the firm grasp of his brother kept him from being tossed out of the partially open doorway to the track below.
“What the hell was that all about?” cursed Mikhail.
Alexander leaned outside and surveyed that portion of the track that lay before them.
“Sweet father Lenin! It’s a tank, and it’s just sitting there, smack in the middle of the damn track!”
Quick to have a look himself, Mikhail peered out the doorway. Dusk had fallen, yet barely illuminated by the last glow of twilight, less than two dozen meters away, was a massive armored vehicle, its gun turret pointed right at them.
“It’s a German Panzer,” revealed Mikhail.
“And from the look of it, they’re not in any hurry to let us pass.”
“Perhaps if we put up a full head of steam we could ram it and push it out of the way,” Alexander said.
“I seriously doubt they’d just sit there without firing and let us get away with such a thing, dear brother. Our only alternative is to reverse our course while the track is still clear behind us, and find another route to safety.”
Mikhail was prepared to jump from the car and inform the engineer of this tactic, when Senior Lieutenant Ryutin climbed down onto the track from the boxcar behind them.
“Comrade Senior Lieutenant, perhaps we should try reversing our course!” cried Mikhail.
“We could transfer to an alternative route at the switching station at Luga.”
“That’s just what I had in mind, Kuznetsov,” answered the veteran.
“But no matter what happens, you’re to stay with that gold above all else. Now hang on, lads. I’m afraid the ride is going to be a bit rough.”
Mikhail watched as Ryutin ran down the track and disappeared inside the locomotive. Seconds later, the brakes released with a loud hiss. There was a sudden lurch as the engineer reversed gears, followed by a steady movement backward. Mikhail watched as the tank that had been blocking the track grew smaller.
“I wonder why they didn’t shoot at us while they had the chance?” Alexander asked with a relieved sigh.
“Surely it would have only taken a single well-placed round to blow our locomotive to pieces.”
Mikhail had been contemplating the same thought as he leaned out the doorway in an attempt to view the conditions of the track in the direction that they were now moving. As they prepared to round the curve they had transit ted only minutes before, he spotted another Panzer blocking their escape route. And in that instant, he knew the answer to his brother’s question.
“It’s an ambush!” warned Mikhail.
“The bastards had us set up the whole damn time.”
The engineer also spotted the new obstacle, and as he slammed on the brakes, the train once more lurched to a sudden, squealing stop.
“Now what?” asked Alexander.
“You’d better make sure you have a fresh magazine in your rifle, brother. The way it looks to me, the only way we’re going to be able to get out of this train is to fight our way out.”
Alexander fumbled for his carbine.
“Perhaps we should make a run for it on foot while we still have a chance, Misha.”
Mikhail firmly shook his head.
“This is as good a place to die as any other. Besides, I think I’d rather be dead, than live the rest of my life as a coward.”
Alexander’s moment of indecision was cut short by the gruff voice of their senior lieutenant.
“Alexander Kuznetsov, I want you to take up a defensive position inside the caboose. Your brother’s to stay with the gold until I say otherwise.”
“This is it, Misha,” Alexander said.
“Do take care.”
There could be no doubting the fear and confusion that clouded his brother’s sea-green eyes, and Mikhail stepped forward and hugged him tightly.
“Have faith, dearest Alexander. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes before. This will be no different. You’ll see.”
Alexander stood back and stared into his brother’s intense blue eyes. Finding himself unable to find the words to express his deep emotions, he could only shake his head and then turn for the open doorway. The last Mikhail saw of his twin was as he sprinted off to his new position at the rear of the train.
Moments later Mikhail spotted his first German infantryman slowly moving out of the nearby tree line.
Because of the limited light, he couldn’t determine if there were more. But it became apparent there were when his comrades in the boxcar behind him opened fire. Quick to respond to this meagre volley, a multitude of muzzle flashes erupted from the black depths of the wood and Mikhail knew that they were vastly outnumbered.
Determined to send as many of the enemy to their early graves as possible, Mikhail raised his Dekyarov and began firing. He picked his targets carefully, diligently waiting until an exploding Nazi shell gave him something tangible to shoot at. He expended over a dozen cartridges before the first German mortar rounds arrived. One of the shells landed on the edge of the track directly in front of him, and Mikhail ducked for cover just as a shower of shrapnel and debris flew in through the open doorway.
Seconds later, another mortar round crashed into the freight car behind him with a deafening explosion. The floor rattled beneath Mikhail, and he could hear the horrified cries of his wounded comrades as they screamed out in anguish. Fighting the impulse to leave his position and see what he could do to assist them, Mikhail began choking on the thick, black smoke that was another by-product of the blast. His eyes stung with pain, and it took a supreme effort just to breathe. Yet not to be denied his chance to revenge this attack, he lilted his rifle and blindly sprayed bullets into the tree line.
It was while he was inserting another magazine that the first German soldier reached the side of his boxcar.
Mikhail intuitively sensed this man’s presence moments before he could actually see him. With trembling hands he did his best to get a fresh round into the chamber, but a jam kept the breech from clearing. When the Nazi soldier could be heard climbing into the entrance of the boxcar, Mikhail had no choice but to put down his rifle and pull out his combat knife. He used the roiling smoke as an effective veil and waited until the German was almost upon him before springing up and thrusting the knife deep into the enemy’s soft gut.
The German howled in pain. Bathed in spurting blood, Mikhail backed away as the Nazi collapsed onto the floor. It seemed to take an eternity for him to stop his pained whimpering. Barely aware of the scattered gunshots that still emanated from outside, Mikhail listened to the labored breathing of the man whom he had just stabbed. Remorse replaced his previous anger, and he only wished to flee from this cursed place. Yet his legs were heavy, and feeling suddenly drained of all energy, he dropped to the floor himself, not noticing the wounded German’s last desperate gasp before he surrendered to the arms of death. He was equally unaware of the fact that outside, the shooting had finally come to a conclusion.
It proved to be the sound of nearby voices that eventually broke him from his shocked reverie. Still finding himself without the energy to stand, Mikhail listened as ok a German officer barked out a flurry of orders. The blindingly bright shaft of a battery-powered torch split the blackness and a group of soldiers noisily climbed up into the boxcar.