you then. You will have to tell me how to walk; now hurry, before the Americans come to see if we were injured. Once away from here, you can splint your leg and be able to walk again.”
Bending down, the Lieutenant had Morozov climb on his back and after he picked him up, he said, “Whisper to me as we move.”
“Straight ten steps and then turn sharply to your left.”
Taking the steps was slow, but once done, both men knew they could do this for a short distance.
“How far do we need to move, Sergeant?”
“Maybe one kilometer. I do not see them looking for us long, because the temperature is too cold, and it is still snowing. Also while the moon is out now, the clouds are moving closer. The moon will soon be covered and once the clouds do that, it will be dark again. I think in another hour, we will start to have sunlight. Go straight about forty steps and I will tell you when to turn to your right.”
An hour later, the two men were under a large oak tree as Morozov trimmed a limb to use as a splint for his leg. The limb was long enough that he'd removed the branches and then cut the stem in half. He'd already cleaned and wrapped the injury as well as he could, so once the splint was in place, they could move. He had taken two of the white pills; his pain was almost gone, but enough remained to remind him of his injury. He wondered how painful it would be to move.
He wrapped the splint in place using his cutup tee shirt, and then with the help of the Lieutenant, he stood. He took a single step and then winced in pain; it hurt badly, but what choice did he have? To remain meant death and that wasn't an option for him.
“Is your pain severe?”
“Bad enough, but we must move, do we not?”
“Yes, so hand me the belt.”
Ten minutes later, Morozov was in such pain he was crying silently as they walked. He wanted to take another pain pill, but knew too much of the medication would harm his liver, so he kept moving.
More than once over the morning, he felt faint and he knew soon he'd have to rest for a few hours. His mind was clouded with painfulness of such a level he worried about passing out. He gritted his teeth and kept moving. The snow had stopped, but the temperature dropped a great deal, and now he grew concerned about freezing to death if they stopped without a fire. He didn't want to build a fire, because any partisans in the area would either see the smoke or smell it, and that he couldn't afford, so they kept moving.
It was as they crossed a small clearing that he heard the helicopter and felt a knot in his stomach suddenly come alive. If the crew thought they were partisans, they were dead meat, because there was no way they could move fast enough to avoid being killed.
“Lieutenant, stop and wave your arms and I will do the same. We have to convince the helicopter crew that we are Russians or we are dead! Wave, and do it now!”
The helicopter approached, circled and finally after many long minutes, it sat down in the field and four men ran to the two. Two men guarded them, as they were asked their names and units. Realizing the two were Russians, the crew escorted them back to the helicopter. Once inside, they were strapped into their seats and handed hot cups of tea. A highly trained medic began working on both men, inserting an IV, but he started evaluating the most seriously injured first, the Lieutenant.
They'd raised about fifty feet in the air, when someone screamed and Morozov saw something fly by the door of the aircraft. There came two loud explosions, just outside the aircraft, causing the helicopter to roll violently and then shudder. Two machine-guns opened up and the noise was loud. The gunner on the left side screamed and most of his backbone, blood and bone fragments, flew from his body to land on the back of the other gunner. The spattered gunner ignored the mess and kept firing. A few minutes later, the
Bending down, the Lieutenant had Morozov climb on his back and after he picked him up, he said, “Whisper to me as we move.”
“Straight ten steps and then turn sharply to your left.”
Taking the steps was slow, but once done, both men knew they could do this for a short distance.
“How far do we need to move, Sergeant?”
“Maybe one kilometer. I do not see them looking for us long, because the temperature is too cold, and it is still snowing. Also while the moon is out now, the clouds are moving closer. The moon will soon be covered and once the clouds do that, it will be dark again. I think in another hour, we will start to have sunlight. Go straight about forty steps and I will tell you when to turn to your right.”
An hour later, the two men were under a large oak tree as Morozov trimmed a limb to use as a splint for his leg. The limb was long enough that he'd removed the branches and then cut the stem in half. He'd already cleaned and wrapped the injury as well as he could, so once the splint was in place, they could move. He had taken two of the white pills; his pain was almost gone, but enough remained to remind him of his injury. He wondered how painful it would be to move.
He wrapped the splint in place using his cutup tee shirt, and then with the help of the Lieutenant, he stood. He took a single step and then winced in pain; it hurt badly, but what choice did he have? To remain meant death and that wasn't an option for him.
“Is your pain severe?”
“Bad enough, but we must move, do we not?”
“Yes, so hand me the belt.”
Ten minutes later, Morozov was in such pain he was crying silently as they walked. He wanted to take another pain pill, but knew too much of the medication would harm his liver, so he kept moving.
More than once over the morning, he felt faint and he knew soon he'd have to rest for a few hours. His mind was clouded with painfulness of such a level he worried about passing out. He gritted his teeth and kept moving. The snow had stopped, but the temperature dropped a great deal, and now he grew concerned about freezing to death if they stopped without a fire. He didn't want to build a fire, because any partisans in the area would either see the smoke or smell it, and that he couldn't afford, so they kept moving.
It was as they crossed a small clearing that he heard the helicopter and felt a knot in his stomach suddenly come alive. If the crew thought they were partisans, they were dead meat, because there was no way they could move fast enough to avoid being killed.
“Lieutenant, stop and wave your arms and I will do the same. We have to convince the helicopter crew that we are Russians or we are dead! Wave, and do it now!”
The helicopter approached, circled and finally after many long minutes, it sat down in the field and four men ran to the two. Two men guarded them, as they were asked their names and units. Realizing the two were Russians, the crew escorted them back to the helicopter. Once inside, they were strapped into their seats and handed hot cups of tea. A highly trained medic began working on both men, inserting an IV, but he started evaluating the most seriously injured first, the Lieutenant.
They'd raised about fifty feet in the air, when someone screamed and Morozov saw something fly by the door of the aircraft. There came two loud explosions, just outside the aircraft, causing the helicopter to roll violently and then shudder. Two machine-guns opened up and the noise was loud. The gunner on the left side screamed and most of his backbone, blood and bone fragments, flew from his body to land on the back of the other gunner. The spattered gunner ignored the mess and kept firing. A few minutes later, the
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