91. Lieutenant Butorin Has an Idea
It was midSeptember 1941. The sun’s heat was surprisingly
merciless for this time of year. The snowwhite clouds floated lazily
from beyond the Pulkovo heights and dissolved somewhere over
Leningrad’s Morskoy port. Enjoying the silence and glad still to
be alive, we sat stretching out our weary legs clad in heavy canvas
boots, which were covered with a thick layer of dust. We sat in
silence, propped on our elbows in the long green grass, relaxing,
idly observing the way our fellowvillagers were working as they
strengthened the regiment’s defence works and watching the tree
tops lazily swaying in Sheremetyev Park,^1 which lay spread out
behind our unit’s position.
We were ten regimental reconnaissance scouts, who had just
returned from yet another mission. Tightly wrapped up in a cape
lay the eleventh of our number, who had been killed, and we had
carried him back. He was already beyond sharing our delight.
- Sheremetyev Park used to be located close to where Stachki and Marshal Zhukov
Avenues now intersect.