—— I Become a Sniper ——25aircraft failed to emerge from its last dive. Landing on its nose,
it rammed itself deep into the ground and, to everyone’s delight,
exploded. We rejoiced; our Mureshka was avenged
And so we set off to take the examination. It was a gloomy
October morning. The trenches had long been permeated with
damp and the cold at night had become more noticeable and
palpable. The first significant amount of snow had fallen the
previous day, straight onto the dry, frozen ground like a blanket
covering the crippled earth of Leningrad. We all realised that our
first wartime winter would be very severe.
Dividing our group into pairs, Lieutenant Butorin stationed
them to defend the regiment in firing positions that they had earlier
chosen. We already knew the evening before who was with whom
and where each would stand. Each pair had occupied their site
before, put their foxholes in order, and prepared and camouflaged
them.
My partner was Ivan Dobrik, a sturdy lad of short stature
with a broad, goodnatured face, but a perpetual sly expression
on it. He was an excellent marksman on the smallest targets and a
downright outstanding serviceman. I remember an incident that
took place between us during peacetime in Karelia. That evening
I was returning to the company from the regimental headquarters.
Standing on guard by the barracks was our Ivan, who knew me
like the back of his hand. He thrust his bayonet at me.
‘I’m not letting you through. Go see the guard. Why are you
late?’
And he would not have let me through either unless, fortunately
for me, the officer in charge of our platoon had happened to come
out onto the barrack’s porch.
And now he and I were lying side by side and observing the
enemy defences. Directly in front of us, a kilometre and a half
away, was a railway line; we could see a level crossing with a signal
box and the barrier raised. This was our principal reference point.
Along the highway which crossed the tracks there was active
movement of vehicles and German troops in both directions.