- Dimka! - Sergey said quietly, so as not to wake anyone from the flight crew, silently out loud in despair - Where are you friend? Will I find you when we beat this village? What will I tell your friend Vaska? Who will he play football with!

Soon, the tiredness and experiences quickly piled on Sergei, and he turned off almost instantly, thinking that tomorrow the regiment’s son Vaska would tell them the same fighting that they and Dimka had to a close friend.

In the lair of the wolf wolf

A wild animal howl rolled over the swamp, and the policemen, led by Seraphim Kozhuba, started. He drowned out even the sounds of crickets and the sounds of German technology in the village.

The policemen literally flew from the place of the eerie to the whole of the marsh, the forest of the wolf howl. They threw their carbines and crouched in the weeds, hiding their heads in the black caps of the policemen. At the very edge of the swamp swamp, they peered into the dark forest at night and waited to see what they saw at all.

A shadow darted between the trees. Black wolf-like shadow. She swept right through the swamp from left to right, from tree to tree and dived into the coastal weeds away from those who were sitting in ambush. She seemed to decide to bypass those who sat at the edge of the swamp. And attack them from the rear.

Kozuba threw up a shotgun and jumped off. Behind him are all the policemen, including the Whip. Shots rang out across the weeds lit by the moon.

They rushed after the shadow, already forgetting why they were sitting here.

It was a wolf. A big pretty wolf. He rushed in the weeds, wagging from the side, to the side leading the unwanted guests from his lair.

Somewhere in the distance, the flashes of shells and bombs blazed the horizon. Somewhere to the west of the village and where the big gray wolf ran, there was a front line of confrontation between Germans and Russians.

Kozhuba and the policemen, stopping, shot at the wolf wagging a big gray in the dark. They shot at the flickering noise in the grass, rushing from them and moving away shadows.

After shooting off almost all of their cartridges, they stopped and lost the one they were pursuing.

- Bastard gray! - swore Seraphim - Oh shit!

- What the hell are we chasing him ?! - was indignant, looking at Seraphim, the policeman the Whip - What the hell did you drive Kozhub here ?! - Whip

indignant - What the hell are we chasing this wolf ?! Raised so much noise ?!

Seraphim himself could not explain it. Something pushed him literally under the arm and carried him over the bumps and over the bumps. And they rushed everything after him. Probably the darkness and cold of the night. Maybe the tension of a long wait, but Kozhub suddenly sped off from his place in a weed and rushed, shooting, stumbling over coastal hummocks at a strange beast, dragging the others along. He expected to see the Soviet

pilot, and then suddenly this hefty wolf appeared. A wolf straight from the marshland. Right from this forest that stands in a swamp.

The whip resented. He jumped to Seraphim Kozhube and grabbed him by the breast.

- You broke the whole operation goat old! Che found you? - The whip grabbed, almost to the throat of the Seraphim and he pushed the Whip away from him, and the Whip flew to the ground.

- Your mother! He shouted, falling under the feet of his subordinate policemen Dryke and Pimple. He jumped to his feet, but got in his face with his fist and flew off again at the feet of the Dryke and Pimples.

- Do not touch me shit! Snapped the village headman Seraphim Kozhuba.

“You old bastard!” - Whip whined and snatched German Walther out of his black overcoat pocket.

Seraphim, was, threw up his double-barreled gun, but was late for a moment, and it cost him his life.

There were ringing pistol shots in the dark of the night, and the Seraphim fell into a tall weed, dropping his hunting rifle.The whip shot at Seraphim a few more times and spat at his corpse lying in the weeds of the village headman.

Policemen Pimple and Dryk were numb from the shock and looked at the dead Seraphim, then at their Whip.

“That's all damn bastard!” - Whip shouted, looking at the Seraphim lying in the weeds - That's all an old ruin! There you have the road!

- Whip! - amazed, such a denouement mumbled Dryk - Fuck you his, eh!

- Why did you do it! Pryshch moaned, stepping back behind Dryke.

- I have taken a lot of myself lately, Kozlin! - cursing, already calming down, Whip - He still threatened me! Scarecrow Kogel, you old bastard!

So they stood for some time, discussing over the corpse of the village headman, throwing him right here in the dark to be eaten by mosquitoes and this wolf, or still be dragged to the village and thrown at his house. It was already two in the morning. And they went back to the Snowdrops to their homes. And above them on a hill, in the darkness, flashing yellow, like the moon itself, stood a gray big she-wolf. She looked at the leaving three policemen and accompanied them with her wolf eyes of predatory eyes. And when they disappeared from her sight, she quickly descended from the slope back to the coastal weeds and approached the dead, lying here to the elder Seraphim Kozhub. She stood over his corpse cooling in the grass and howled again at the moon. The wolf bit off both his hands and face and immediately gnawed them. Then she bit off both legs and torn her stomach with her fangs, pulling out of her fat belly belly, scattering around the grass and tasting the smell of still warm blood pouring into the coastal weeds.

Her black shadow was still looking where the policemen had gone. She guarded her gray mistress. She guarded her for as long as she was not saturated with human blood and human flesh.

***

In the partisan camp, at night deep in the forest on the opposite side of the village from the Berezina River and the Wolf Farm and the swamps themselves were quite crowded. Just had a lot of people. Armed people.

Who was wearing what. But more often the military uniform was visible. Were here as army quilted jackets and ordinary village sheepskin coats. There were soldiers' shabby dented overcoats.

It was early morning again. It was nine o'clock and it was already quite light. The fires were burning and people were sitting around them. Someone just sat and looked at the fire burning in the fire. Someone cooked fried meat or cooked fish soup. Vsevolod Artyukhov and his son were also sitting here. Vsevolod smack hunter and fisherman realized that it was time to flee from the Snezhnitsa here to the partisans and was right. I would have delayed everything.

They escaped from their village, and, perhaps, on time. Having loaded with caught fish and meat on a nightly hunt recently, they rushed in no one quickly, without waiting for the partisan detachment. The Germans did not have time to grab them. They knew that the police were already following them. And then came the moment when it was necessary to make the legs, and they left quietly from Snezhnitsa, taking the hunting rifles and supplies for themselves and the detachment.

Vsevolod and his son Pavel were now among their own, and, like everyone, were preparing to seize their native village. The detachment in which they were, was preparing to storm the Snack and attack the Germans. In accordance with the command of the Soviet army, they, together with the military unit allocated for this, must consistently attack from the forest on Snezhnitsa and repel it from enemies. The enemy will be surrounded by the rest of the Belarusian farms and villages through the Snezhnitsa and captured into the ring. There, already behind the village itself, the ring was ordered.

close and surround those Germans who remain and do not have time to jump out of the ticks. For this, a partisan detachment was prepared. An additional weapon was abandoned from the air. Even small guns nicknamed "Farewell Motherland." Right in the Belarusian forests and on the head of the partisans. And very much the way. They just did not have enough artillery.

And their own partisan detachment was preparing for a military operation.

The detachment was a lot of their villagers. Most were young. Some were whole families. Long before both of them Artyukhovs arrived in the squadron. Some arrived here with the arrival of the Germans in the village. There were soldiers around here, remaining in a partisan detachment and continuing to fight ... Read more →