—— Red Army Sniper ——158‘Time to go! It’ll be harder getting out of here than getting in,’
I told Marusia, bearing in mind her presence, which I had not
reckoned on.
Grabbing a couple of submachine guns and casting a final
glance round the dugout, I snuffed out the lamp and unscrewed
the top from it. I poured the kerosene all around, splashed some
on the boxes and pulled a blanket off the bed.
‘Come on! You go out first and cover the entrance with the
blanket! I’ll be right with you!’ Grabbing a couple of dinner knives
from the table, I struck a match and leapt out the door.
I gave Marusia one knife and showed her what she needed to
do. We fastened the blanket over the door, sticking the knives I had
taken into the upper corners. They easily went into the grooves.
By the time we had left the second trench line, flames had
flared up, exploding from the dugout we had only just left. There
was, however, no commotion; apparently, as I had counted on, the
German officer thought the fire had been started by the kerosene
lamp. Thus, we were safely able to jump over the first German
trench. Stopping a little while to get our breath back in a shell hole
along the way, we moved on farther. On the way back I crawled
ahead of Marusia, because she had most probably forgotten where
the path through the minefield lay. I did not look back, but I knew
that Marusia was cautiously moving behind me, copying all my
movements. And I could not hear her! Not a single branch snapped
under her and not a single bush quivered.
And only when we were in our own trenches did I give vent to
the fury which was tearing me apart.
‘Don’t make a fuss, soldier!’ Marusia answered me. She stood
there and smiled as if nothing was the matter...
Subsequently the army newspapers often wrote about the feats
of our medical orderly Marusia Nazarova, who carried a good few
hundred wounded soldiers and officers from the field of battle
during the heavy fighting near Leningrad, and noted her courage
and her selfless devotion to the motherland.