"Nothing, sir. But you are implying, aren't you, that they have something to shoot at us with?"

Alexander was silent for a few minutes and then said, "Bring me Corporal Yermenko."

A few minutes later, Ouspensky returned with Yermenko, who was wiping blood off his arm.

"Corporal, how is your ammo holding up?"

"I've got three eight-round boxes, three grenades and a few mortar shells."

"Very good. Let me tell you the situation. We're low on ammo and there are at least a dozen Germans in the woods."

"I think, sir, more than a dozen. And they are armed."

"Corporal, how good a marksman are you? Will your two dozen rounds last you against a dozen men?"

"No, sir, they won't. I don't have a sniper rifle."

"Have you any ideas?"

"Are you asking me, sir?"

"I'm asking you, Corporal."

Yermenko paused, moving his mouth in a thoughtful manner, while he adjusted his helmet. He was standing at attention and his arm continued to bleed. Alexander motioned for Ouspensky to get the first aid kit. Yermenko was still thinking. Alexander motioned for him to crouch and took a look at the corporal's wound. It was a superficial grazing of the triceps, but it was bleeding steadily. Alexander applied pressure with a dressing, and while sitting next to Yermenko, said, "Tell me what you think, Corporal."

Lowering his voice, Yermenko said, "I think maybe we should ask the...back troops for some of their ammo, sir." He motioned behind him into the woods.

"I think you're right. But what if they refuse?"

"I think we should ask them in such a way as to make that impossible."

Alexander patted Yermenko on the back.

Lowering his voice further, Yermenko said, "I know they have dozens of semi-automatic rifles, at least three or four sub-machine guns, and they have not expended their rounds. They have grenades, they have mortar shells, and they have water and food."

Alexander and Ouspensky exchanged glances. "You're right, of course," Alexander said, wrapping the bandage over Yermenko's arm and tying the ends in a knot. "But I don't know if they're going to part with their ammo. Are you up to this assignment?"

"Yes, sir. I will need one man to distract them."

Alexander got up. "That will be me."

"Sir!" Ouspensky exclaimed. "No. You will send me."

"You can come with us. But whatever you do, don't tell them you have only one lung, Lieutenant." Alexander handed Yermenko the wooden club he had made. Small pieces of sharp shell fragments were wedged deep into the carved-out wooden head. At the other end, the handle was attached to a rope Alexander had made out of tree bark so it would be easy to swing. Yermenko took it, gave Ouspensky rounds for his Tokarev pistol, they loaded their weapons, Alexander loaded a fresh 35-round magazine into his Shpagin, and the three of them walked silently through the woods to the NKGB encampment. Alexander could see a dozen men sitting in a social circle around a welcoming fire, chatting, laughing.

"Ouspensky," he said, "stay here. I'm going to talk to them first. I'm going to ask for their help. You two wait for me here. When I turn around to walk back to you, if I sling my machine gun over my shoulder, it means we have peace. If I take a step with it in my arms, that means we don't. Understood?"

"Perfectly," said Yermenko, but Ouspensky, grim in the face, did not reply. Ouspensky took his job of protecting Alexander too seriously.

"Lieutenant! Understood?"

Sigh. "Yes, sir."

Alexander walked forward, leaving Ouspensky and Yermenko ten paces behind in the bushes, and came up to the circle in a small clearing. The men barely turned or raised their heads to look at him.

"Comrades," he said, coming up close to their circle, "we need your help. We have no ammo left, the replacement platoons aren't here, nor have I been able to reach anyone by field phone. I have twenty men left out of two battalions and I've got no support. We need your cartridges and your shells. We also need your first aid kits and some water for our wounded. And the use of your phone to call the command post."

The men stared at him in silence and then laughed. "You're fucking with us, right?"

"My orders were to break through the woods."

"You clearly haven't followed your orders, Captain," said Lieutenant Sennev, glaring at Alexander from a sitting position.

"Oh, I've followed my orders, Lieutenant," said Alexander. "And my men's blood is testament to my obedience. But now I need your weapons."

"Fuck off," said Sennev.

"I'm asking you to help your brothers in arms. We are still fighting for the same side, aren't we?"

"I said fuck off."

Alexander sighed. Slowly he turned his back on the circle of men, holding his Shpagin. Before he was turned around completely, he saw the shrapnel club hurled by Yermenko sail through the air and with a siren wail embed itself in Sennev's head. Yermenko must have been quite close to have heard it all, to have been so ready to throw the club. Alexander spun around, pointed his Shpagin and fired a shot at a time. He did not use the automatic fire. He didn't waste a bullet on Sennev, who didn't need one. Alexander fired five rounds, Yermenko fired six, and they were done. The NKGB men never had a chance to lift their weapons.

Ouspensky and Yermenko took all their arms and provisions, while Alexander piled the bodies one on top of another. When they were a sufficient distance away-twenty paces-Alexander threw his grenade into the pile of bodies and shielded his eyes. The grenade exploded. For a few moments the three men stood and watched the flames rise up.

"Perhaps they need a soldier's farewell from us," said Ouspensky, saluting them. "Farewell, and fuck you!"

Yermenko laughed.

As they walked back to their positions, Alexander slapped the corporal on the shoulder. "Well done," he said, offering Yermenko a cigarette.

"Thank you, sir," Yermenko said. He cleared his throat. "Request permission to go and find the enemy commander. I think if we take out their commander, their defense will fall."

"You think so?"

"Yes. They're very disjointed. In front, on the side, random fire, no purpose. They're not fighting like a trained army. They're fighting like a partisan force."

"We are in the woods, Corporal," said Alexander. "You're not expecting trenches, are you?"

"I'm expecting reason. I'm not seeing it. They are heavily armed and they're shooting at us as if they don't give a shit how long they'll hold out. They're defending the woods as if they have an endless supply behind them."

"And how will this change if you bring me the commander?"

"Without the commander, they will retreat."

"They'll retreat, but we'll still be in the woods."

"We can move laterally, south. We're bound to run into the South Ukrainian front."

"The South Ukrainian front will be overjoyed to see us. Corporal, my orders were to break through these woods."

"And we will. But sideways. We've been here two weeks, lost nearly everything, cannot replace our men and cannot move the Germans. Sir, please let me bring you the commander's head. You'll see, they'll retreat. The Germans don't do well without a commander. We'll be able to move sideways."

Ouspensky nudged Alexander. "Why don't you tell him they're Russian, Captain?" he whispered.

"You think that will make a difference to Yermenko?" Alexander whispered back.

Alexander got on the newly acquired field phone to contact Captain Gronin of the 28th non-penal battalion, four kilometers south of Alexander's position. He said nothing to Gronin about the downed NKGB but he did ask for reinforcements to come as soon as possible. It turned out that indeed the Germans had a bulge between Alexander and Gronin and to get reinforcements to Alexander, Gronin would have to move through German troops. Exhaustion in his voice, Gronin nonetheless managed to raise it high enough to shout, "Are you fucking joking with me, reinforcements? Who do you think you are? I'm sending you reinforcements when pigs fly! Fight with what you have until the rest of the army catches up with you." And he hung up with a slam.

Alexander replaced the receiver gently and looked up to see Ouspensky and Yermenko staring him in the face. "What did he say, Captain?" asked Ouspensky.

"He said reinforcements will be here in a few days. We have to hold out till then." Taking a sip of water from the flask, Alexander grunted-even the NKGB's water tasted better-and said, "All right, Yermenko. Go get me their commander. But take another man with you."

"Sir-"

"No. You will take another man with you. Someone silent and good. Someone loyal, someone you can trust."

"I'd like to take him, sir," Yermenko said, pointing at Ouspensky.

"What are you, a fucking madman? I'm a lieutenant-"

"Lieutenant!" That was Alexander. He lit a smoke, glanced from Ouspensky to Yermenko, grinned and said, "Corporal, you can't have the lieutenant. He is mine. Take someone else along." He paused. "Take someone better. Take Smirnoff."

"Thank you for your confidence, sir," said Ouspensky.

"You're welcome, Lieutenant."

In an hour, only Smirnoff returned. "Where is Corporal Yermenko?"

"He didn't make it," said Smirnoff.

Alexander was silent a moment before he said, "I didn't ask you that, Corporal. I asked where he was."

"I told you, he is dead, sir."

"And I asked you where he was. I will keep asking you until you tell me. Where is he?"

With a puzzled, slightly mortified, war-exhausted look, Smirnoff stared at Alexander. "I don't understand-"

"Where is the dead corporal, Corporal?"

"Back where he fell, sir. Tripped a mine."

Alexander straightened up. "You left your battle buddy, the man who covered your back, dead in enemy territory?"

"Yes, sir," Smirnoff stammered. "I needed to get out of there, to get back here."

"Corporal, you are not worth the uniform they put on you. You are not worth the gun they gave you to defend your mother country. To leave a fallen soldier in enemy territory..."

"He was dead, sir," Smirnoff said nervously.

"And soon you will be, too!" Alexander shouted. "Who will carry your body to the Soviet side? Your buddy is dead. It won't be him." Waving his hand at Smirnoff, he said, "Get out of my sight." Then, "Before you go," he said to the corporal who had turned on his heels, "you will tell me if you've discovered anything we can use. Or did you just go into enemy territory to leave a soldier to die?"

"No, sir." Smirnoff didn't look at Alexander.

"No sir what?"

"Sir, I found out the commander is not German but Russian. Though I think there are a few Germans in their ranks. I heard German spoken. The commander is definitely Russian. He yells to the troops in German but speaks to his lieutenant in Russian. He's got about fifty troops left."

"Fifty!"

"Hmm. They look to him for their every move." Smirnoff paused. "I know because we got very close to him. That's when we found out the area around his tent is mined. But now I know where to go. I'll just find Yermenko's body, the mine there has already been tripped, and I figure I can throw a grenade into the commander's tent. He'll be blown to pieces and his men will surrender."

Alexander paused. "You sure he's Russian?"

"Positive."

Smirnoff left. A half-hour went by and he wasn't back. An hour went by and he wasn't back. After an hour and a half, with the woods black and impossible to see through, Alexander gave up on Smirnoff. The stupid cocky bastard had obviously alerted them with another casualty. Now he is lying there dead, waiting for me to come and retrieve him.

"I'm going in, Lieutenant," said Alexander. "If anything should happen to me, you're in command of our unit."

"Sir, you cannot go in."

"I'm going, and I'm not coming back until either me or their commander is dead. Fucking Smirnoff! Left poor Yermenko in the woods." Alexander cursed again. "At least now there are two of them for me to find. I'll know where to step. Wish I had a fucking tank. If I had a tank, I wouldn't be in this position."

"You had a tank. If you hadn't insisted on storming the river by yourself, you'd still have it."

"Shut up," said Alexander, taking his machine gun, tucking a pistol and five grenades into his shirt, and adjusting his helmet.

"I'm coming with you, sir," said Ouspensky, getting up.

"Yes, right," said Alexander. "They'll hear you wheezing in fucking Krakow. While I'm gone, stay here and grow yourself a lung. I'll be back in an hour."

"Be back, Captain."

In the dark, quiet as a Siberian tiger, Alexander made his way in the woods around the small flickering lights of the German camp. He had a small penlight that he held in his teeth and shined on the underbrush as he looked for a body, disturbed ground, anything. Alexander's pistol was cocked and the knife was in his hand.

He found Smirnoff, who had found a mine. A meter away he saw Yermenko. He made the sign of the cross on the men with his pistol.

After putting the penlight away, his eyes made out the commander's tent not five meters away in the clearing. He saw the mines lying flat on the ground. They hadn't even bothered to bury them in their haste. If only his men hadn't stepped on them in theirs.

He saw a flicker of a flashlight and a shadow in front of the tent. A man cleared his throat and said, "Captain? Are you awake, sir?"

Alexander heard a man's voice say something in German, then in Russian. In Russian, the captain asked the soldier to bring him something to drink and then not to step a meter away from the tent. "The mines have already killed two of them. But more will come, Borov. I'm well hidden, but we cannot take any chances."

That was helpful, Alexander thought, putting the knife between his teeth and getting out his grenade. He knew he had to be stealthy and very exact. He could not miss the tent.

The soldier came out of the tent and before he closed the flaps, he saluted the man. Alexander was about to pull the pin out of the grenade. The adjutant said, "I'll be right back, Captain Metanov-"