—— Day-to-Day Life on the Front Line ——53After my third shot the tall man also fell backwards behind the
motorcyclist, waving his arms.
‘Right... suppose we’ve got another three cartridges!’ And
I tipped them out of my pocket onto the shelf. ‘What are we going
to do now?’ I said, talking to myself and excited by my success. But
events unfolded with lightning speed. I had just managed to reload
my rifle and get ready to fire when some more Nazis popped out
of the dugout, drawn by the noise of the motorcycle and possibly
expecting someone. They were two officers with medals glittering
on their chests and peaked caps on their heads. One of them
dashed towards the Nazi who had been sitting in the sidecar just
a few minutes ago, but was now lying dead on the snow in front
of the dugout. The second one shouted something, calling for help
from inside the dugout. In no time at all a third officer leapt out
and also dashed over to the dead man. They began to lift him up,
trying to drag him into the dugout. I first killed the one who was
giving orders – I surmised that he was more important than the
two who were dragging the fat man. After him, the other two met
their deaths.
Enthusiasm is all very well, but the voice of reason was still
telling me: ‘Enough for today! You can’t stay in one place so
long – they’ll get you!’ I stopped firing for a while, but continued
observing the Nazis. Whatever happened, there was no way I was
going to get out of here before darkness fell.
But not an hour had passed before the Nazis began to stir again.
With short dashes, from dugout to dugout, they began to approach
the headquarters and the motorbike... And I couldn’t hold back
any longer: once again I opened fire on the bandits. First one fell,
then another behind him froze to the spot. The others scattered
- as if all blown away by the wind! One man tried to start the
motorbike – and succeeded. Then two armourpiercing incendiary
bullets hit the petrol tank and did their job.
‘Eleven in one day! No, brother, you won’t post that record
without consequences!’ And, remembering how I had taught
young, budding snipers to be cautious, I not only ceased firing but