—— Red Army Sniper ——200Gunners who were brigade scouts walked through our firing
positions to the forward defence line. I liked their commander, a
very tall, extraordinarily appealing and jolly young officer named
Sergei Shornikov. He was a legend in the brigade; everyone knew
him. What did I know about him? He was from Moscow and he had
finished college. He was a determined, courageous and extremely
goodnatured fellow, with no pretensions. Though covered in well
deserved military glory, he did not in the slightest revel in it. It was
very easy not just to get to know him, but to get close to him. We
became friends when Sergei was appointed commander of the 1st
Battalion. At that time our forces had already begun to drive the
Nazis back.
On route marches the battalion commander travelled ahead in
a staff car with the head of the divisional staff, Captain Polozov.
Gherman Polozov was like his commanding officer. Together they
formed a single unit, somehow complementing each other. The
only thing that distinguished the chief of staff from the divisional
commander was his height – 1 metre 60, like me! Neither was short
of a word, and they were both lively, smart and cheery. I usually
travelled in the middle of the column, while the deputy political
instructor brought up the rear. At halts we all assembled at the
staff vehicle. There we would consult, eat and relax. The battalion’s
deputy commander for political affairs, Yefim Zakharovich
Klimovich, who had been called up from the reserves, was twice
as old as any of us. Mild by character, a good family man from
the Far East, he loved life, loved people and felt for them, but at
work he was a true commissar – solicitous, attentive and kind.
But Major Klimovich perished in an appallingly inept way. It
happened at the beginning of April 1944 somewhere near Pskov
or Ostrov. We had been making good progress, but the advance
had halted and the battalion was given the chance to rest and put
men and equipment in order. We were waiting for the provisions
truck to arrive with its kitchen and our dinner. We had stopped in
an exposed place. Flowing past not far away was a small stream or,
rather, a creek. Someone wanted to build some defence works on