—— Red Army Sniper ——162Regimental commissar Ivan Ilyich Agashin promised to
recommend me for Party membership. He called me in for a chat
at the regiment command post at 1500 hours one day.
The sentry guarding the commissar’s dugout said: ‘Wait a bit,
Nikolaev, the commissar’s busy at the moment. He’ll call you in
himself. Sit down for a little, relax.’
Taking off my waterproof cape, I folded it and perched on a
stump under the green canopy of a tree that stood about ten metres
from the commissar’s dugout.
Around twenty minutes went by. The rain which had overtaken
me on the way had stopped and the sun peeped out. The regimental
postman handed me some letters for the battalion. There was one
there for me from Tambov.
I opened the envelope. At home everything was in order and, as
always, Mum was waiting for her son to come home after victory.
Immediately my heart felt warmer.
Suddenly a girl with a forage cap in her hands came out of
the dugout. ‘Possibly a new typist or an orderly from the medical
section – who knows?’ I thought. You could not see the tabs under
her raincoat.
‘Why no greeting?’ she asked suddenly.
I jumped up, put on my own cap, stretched myself up to my full
height and raised one hand to my temple.
‘Let’s get to know each other. I’m Margarita Borisovnna
Kotikovskaya, military investigator for the divisional prosecution
office.’ And she was the first to extend her hand.
I guessed that she had not just spoken to me without good
reason. And I was a little concerned; why would I have been of
interest to the divisional prosecution office?
‘Teach me to shoot with a sniper’s rifle!’
I was astounded. This was unexpected.
‘Don’t you believe me? Take a look!’
And she pointed to a telegraph pole. On it some curling, torn
off wires were swaying in the wind, while some lonely green ‘cups’
showed up on the metal crosspieces. Three shots rang out, one