shoulders.
With the binoculars pressed against his eyes, he panned his body along the trees, viewing them intermittently in and out of focus. On occasion, he’d come across a soldier sipping from a flask. It angered him at first, this drinking while on duty. But he couldn’t blame them. Staying warm in such conditions was every man’s priority. Forced from bed in the middle of the night, they had been whisked away into the Siberian unknown to search for an American spy who was most likely dead. Still, he’d make a quiet announcement once they returned to the barracks that drinking on duty was not acceptable. His main concern right now was the colonel. It was already afternoon and the men hadn’t rested or eaten. Barkov didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
Radchek thought he knew what the colonel was up to. He knew that the man didn’t like his post, and what’s more, he didn’t like any of the officers stationed there. On arrival, the colonel let it be known that he wasn’t there to make friends.
Along with Vukarin, Radchek had been assigned to bring Yenisey Radar Installation Number One on line. He liked the assignment from the start, as did Vukarin, with whom Radchek had been friends since boot camp. They served together at the Russian front and were to be part of the Allied invasion of Japan when the Americans dropped the atom bomb. Radchek was promoted to captain right after the war, and he found that commanding suited him. At Yenisey, he was in charge.
His command was less than a week old when Barkov was transferred.
Right now, that was all ancient history as far as Radchek was concerned. If Soviet high command wanted to station a colonel at a remote outpost, who was he to argue? Radchek’s immediate dilemma now was to tell the colonel the men needed food and rest. But what he really wanted to do was to return to the installation and radio in for a regiment specialized in recon.
Tucking away the binoculars, Radchek returned to the half-track and climbed inside. Barkov was still sipping tea, and to the captain’s astonishment, the colonel offered him some. “Thank you, sir” Radchek said, and drank. Barkov watched the woods through the windshield while the captain wrapped his hands around the warm metal cup. He struggled to tell the colonel what he was thinking, and in the end, just blurted it out.
“Colonel, the men need food,” he said. “And rest. They haven’t had either for 15 hours.”
“ There is a spy out there somewhere, captain.” Barkov sipped his tea. “He hasn’t had food or rest either.”
“ Sir, he may be dead.”
“ No, no,” said Barkov. “He isn’t dead.”
“ Nevertheless,” said Radchek, taking a deep breath. “At 1400 hours, I’m recalling the men for rest and a meal.”
He expected a fight, but the colonel didn’t offer one. Instead, he watched the snowfall through the windshield. Surprised, Radchek pulled his pocket watch and noted the time. In 15 minutes he would radio Vukarin to come in. Reaching for the door handle, he stopped at the sound of a sudden, discernible click. A familiar click. Radchek turned to see the barrel of a luger pointed at his face.
Barkov’s face had gone dark red, his eyes insane and monstrous. Radchek had never seen anyone look as inhuman as Barkov did at that moment.
“ Do you know what home is, captain?” he said with a devilish grin.
Radchek alternated looks from the colonel to the pistol. “Sir?” he said in a hushed voice.
“Let me tell you what home isn’t ,” Barkov continued. “Home isn’t a concrete bunker shared with 20 drunken soldiers. Home isn’t a compound surrounded by a steel mesh fence and barbed wire. Home isn’t a plot of ice in the middle of an endless woods.” Barkov’s eyes drifted away in thought, then returned to Radchek. “Is it any wonder, captain, that I now hold a pistol in your face?”
Radchek caught his
With the binoculars pressed against his eyes, he panned his body along the trees, viewing them intermittently in and out of focus. On occasion, he’d come across a soldier sipping from a flask. It angered him at first, this drinking while on duty. But he couldn’t blame them. Staying warm in such conditions was every man’s priority. Forced from bed in the middle of the night, they had been whisked away into the Siberian unknown to search for an American spy who was most likely dead. Still, he’d make a quiet announcement once they returned to the barracks that drinking on duty was not acceptable. His main concern right now was the colonel. It was already afternoon and the men hadn’t rested or eaten. Barkov didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
Radchek thought he knew what the colonel was up to. He knew that the man didn’t like his post, and what’s more, he didn’t like any of the officers stationed there. On arrival, the colonel let it be known that he wasn’t there to make friends.
Along with Vukarin, Radchek had been assigned to bring Yenisey Radar Installation Number One on line. He liked the assignment from the start, as did Vukarin, with whom Radchek had been friends since boot camp. They served together at the Russian front and were to be part of the Allied invasion of Japan when the Americans dropped the atom bomb. Radchek was promoted to captain right after the war, and he found that commanding suited him. At Yenisey, he was in charge.
His command was less than a week old when Barkov was transferred.
Right now, that was all ancient history as far as Radchek was concerned. If Soviet high command wanted to station a colonel at a remote outpost, who was he to argue? Radchek’s immediate dilemma now was to tell the colonel the men needed food and rest. But what he really wanted to do was to return to the installation and radio in for a regiment specialized in recon.
Tucking away the binoculars, Radchek returned to the half-track and climbed inside. Barkov was still sipping tea, and to the captain’s astonishment, the colonel offered him some. “Thank you, sir” Radchek said, and drank. Barkov watched the woods through the windshield while the captain wrapped his hands around the warm metal cup. He struggled to tell the colonel what he was thinking, and in the end, just blurted it out.
“Colonel, the men need food,” he said. “And rest. They haven’t had either for 15 hours.”
“ There is a spy out there somewhere, captain.” Barkov sipped his tea. “He hasn’t had food or rest either.”
“ Sir, he may be dead.”
“ No, no,” said Barkov. “He isn’t dead.”
“ Nevertheless,” said Radchek, taking a deep breath. “At 1400 hours, I’m recalling the men for rest and a meal.”
He expected a fight, but the colonel didn’t offer one. Instead, he watched the snowfall through the windshield. Surprised, Radchek pulled his pocket watch and noted the time. In 15 minutes he would radio Vukarin to come in. Reaching for the door handle, he stopped at the sound of a sudden, discernible click. A familiar click. Radchek turned to see the barrel of a luger pointed at his face.
Barkov’s face had gone dark red, his eyes insane and monstrous. Radchek had never seen anyone look as inhuman as Barkov did at that moment.
“ Do you know what home is, captain?” he said with a devilish grin.
Radchek alternated looks from the colonel to the pistol. “Sir?” he said in a hushed voice.
“Let me tell you what home isn’t ,” Barkov continued. “Home isn’t a concrete bunker shared with 20 drunken soldiers. Home isn’t a compound surrounded by a steel mesh fence and barbed wire. Home isn’t a plot of ice in the middle of an endless woods.” Barkov’s eyes drifted away in thought, then returned to Radchek. “Is it any wonder, captain, that I now hold a pistol in your face?”
Radchek caught his
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