—— Back on Reconnaissance ——151Everyone knew that our Marusia was a brave girl; a number
of times she had carried wounded soldiers and officers on her
scrawny shoulders from the very heat of battle during engagements
with the Nazis. But that was her dayto day work. And this was
reconnaissance.
‘Comrade Major, she’ll only get in my way.’
‘Very well, you can go alone. But remember: don’t get into a
fight with the Germans and no shooting – you must not reveal
yourself! There will be nobody to support you, so you must do
everything nice and quietly. Break a leg! And safe return! We shall
be waiting.’
And, leaning over the map, we began plotting my proposed
route over and over again. We agreed on signals in the event of
un fore seen circumstances, and on the location and time for my
return.
‘You’ve got the evening to get things together and get some
sleep,’ said the battalion commander. ‘And you must be on your
way during the night, with a clear head.’
What thought could there be of sleep? Back in my own dugout
I checked and oiled my weapons: a Tokarev pistol, a Nagant revolver
and a small Walther pistol. I would have five handgrenades and
some others in cases, a Finnish knife and that constant scout’s
companion – a threecolour signalling torch. All this had to be
packed so that it did not make the slightest noise along the way
and every object was conveniently placed for use. I stuffed all this
into my pockets, boots, pack and down my shirtfront. I rubbed the
buckle of my belt and my buttons with mud; I was not to carry
anything shiny – the light of flares could reflect from it. Anything
superfluous was removed from my pockets.
My documents also stayed at home; my Party candidate
membership card I handed over to the commissar and I also left
with him my two engraved watches, letters, photos and everything
else. It was with some regret that I handed over the Order of the
Red Banner I’d received. That is the law of reconnaissance: when
you set out on an operation, you must carry nothing that can help