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Vladimir Poselyagin
I am a tanker

* * *

Prologue

Vyacheslav Suvorov stood on the pontoon and looked at the already quiet surface of the swamp. Several months ago, it was decided that all the remaining people in this world would return back, everyone except Vyacheslav. Some had things to do, some had plans, but six out of seven left. The same Tolik Suvorov, by chance Vyacheslav’s namesake, they even had the same middle names, was going to return soon, he only wanted to visit his grandmother, his only relative. As it turned out, the portal only works in the presence of all seven people next to him, and when his father, uncles and friends plunged under the water under his gaze, something incomprehensible happened. Suddenly, a meter-high wave came from the portal in all directions, rocking the pontoons and boats. Vyacheslav looked at the swamp and did not yet know that he would never see his father, uncles and friends again. The transition was one-sided - and there will be no return.

* * *

Clearing my throat from the water interspersed with mud that got into my throat and nose, I emerged to the surface of the swamp and swayed on a large wave. It’s strange, I don’t remember it being there during the last transition. I raised my glasses to my forehead and looked around in surprise, continuing to shudder in fits of coughing, but it was already residual. Small waves were still rocking me, but soon they stopped, the swamp is not clean water, there is no long excitement here, which means its appearance is connected with me. The inspection rather surprised me; the transition had clearly taken place, but I did not return to my home world, to the swamps of the Bryansk region. Or rather, I was in the border regions of Belarus, but not in my native world, and this was surprising. All around lay virtually the same landscape that I had seen a few minutes ago, but without the platform with the Union scientists, and in general there was a deserted area all around. Swamp. That is, the area is like in 1947, but obviously without everything that I saw. Strange. Although no, the landscape was more reminiscent of forty-four, when we moved here with the Suvorov family, the view is the same, but by forty-seven, after hot battles, there was a hole at the edge of the forest from a fallen plane, but now there was none. This sign alone made it clear that something had gone wrong. But what?

True, I didn’t have time to fully think through what happened. At this time, aircraft engines began to hum in the sky. Raising my head, I looked thoughtfully at the three donkeys. These machines were very familiar to me; I had seen them in action more than once. Good devices, as my famous namesake, three-time hero of the Soviet Union Vyacheslav Suvorov, said more than once. In skillful and experienced hands, these machines could unpleasantly surprise the Germans. They are very nimble. Almost on the spot they could have turned in the opposite direction; the Messers never dreamed of such a thing.

When the “donkeys” moved away, I got to the nearest bump and started thinking. I didn’t like the situation, I wasn’t at home, but I wasn’t in my home world either. Accordingly, this is the third world. What’s strange is that after I appeared here, a flight of fighters flew over me. Just like in Seva’s description of how he ended up in ’41. Airplanes, a whole forest, no scientists’ platform - a strange coincidence, isn’t it?

Drawing my legs together, I reached for my right foot and, feeling for the strap, unfastened it and pulled the strap out from under the water along with a piece of rope. This device was from my home world. Seva’s relatives, preparing for the transition, thought about how they would return, taking into account the fact that this might not happen empty-handed. That is, a rope was tied to my leg, like other world travelers, and a bag with zero buoyancy was tied to it, so that it would sink. After the transition, the compressed air cylinder on the bag should have worked, the balloons would have inflated, and the bag should have floated up next to me. But during the transition, the rope was cut twenty centimeters from my heel. I even shuddered, imagining that my legs could be cut off. The bag itself was lost, like other travelers. I was alone in this world unknown to me, and completely empty at that. Shouldn’t a scuba diver’s wetsuit, without fins, a belt with a weight, and goggles be considered property? There was a knife on my belt, my only value, that was all, I had no other property on me. It was all in that bag that disappeared. The halyard was only two meters long, but this was enough for the unknown director to cut off the valuable cargo. I had the same cylinder on my belt, but it didn’t have time to work, I was thrown to the surface earlier, this is also strange.

Having grieved over the bag - part of the cargo, about a third, belonged to me, the rest to Suvorov - I pushed off from the bump and slid on my belly to the place where I surfaced. A dozen attempts showed that the transition did not work, and others did not surface. Failure. Therefore, without hesitating, he pushed off from the snag and slid to the hummock, then to the next one. A swamp viper darted away from it, but I managed to intercept it and, cutting off its head, quickly skinned it. And why was Seva so afraid of them, meat is like meat, very tasty. The forest was visible about two hundred and fifty meters away; when I got there, there would be something to eat. You need to immediately take care of food, a hungry soldier is a bad soldier, albeit an evil one.

I remember Seva saying that it took him several hours to get to the forest, almost the entire daylight hours. I was surprised then, it seemed like the distance was short, why did it take so long? Now I understand why. Three times I came across an impassable swamp, I think it was the same one, it just crossed my path like a scythe. But finally, I walked around it and, having reached the shore, got out onto land. It took me eight, not eight, but five and a half hours to overcome the swamp. Quite a lot too, believe me.

I sat down on a hummock to rest and began to thoughtfully survey the swamp, wondering whether to leave my wetsuit here or go in it. Walking through the forest in a tight rubber suit that restricts movement, in my opinion, is reckless. However, I had nothing underneath, not even underwear, and walking naked in the forest is a completely bad idea, so I have no choice, let’s wear what we have. There was no snake left, on the way through the swamp I ate a little raw meat, threw away the rest, I need to keep myself in shape. As a child, at my grandmother’s village, a neighboring gamekeeper taught me how to walk through the forest, survive in it, and also get food. He also taught me to eat raw meat, explaining what was acceptable and what was not, and what the proportions were. That’s why I didn’t eat the whole snake; too much is also bad.

Having drowned the air cylinders, I had no use for the extra load, I returned to the shore, sat down on an armful of cut grass and again looked thoughtfully at the sun standing at its zenith. There are four hours before dark, there is still time. If I ended up in the forty-first, and perhaps it is so, then it’s worth moving away from the shore and looking for a clearing. If my guesses are correct, then two Poles with a horse and cart should appear there in the morning. If this is so, then it will become clear what to do next, but for now everything is uncertain.

To be honest, I can’t say I liked the situation I found myself in. I haven’t yet decided how to react to what happened, but I had regrets. I remembered with regret about other travelers, how they were there, but most importantly, about my only close person - my grandmother. It was because of her that I decided to return to my home world for a short time in order to say goodbye to her forever. I liked the world of the Soviet Union, so I was going to return there. I was happy with everything about it, and I wanted to help the state get on a peaceful path. Yes, I am not a civilian specialist, but rather a military man, I work in Kubinka as an inspector, a full-time specialist in a secret design bureau, and I am additionally studying to become a design engineer, I have already entered my third year distance learning. The specialization is the same - tanks. That is why this situation upset me: I didn’t see my grandmother, and I lost the world where I took a good place and was in good standing with the head of state; I had to meet Comrade Stalin more than once as an expert on modern armored vehicles. In general, there is sadness on all sides. Consider that you even lost the two-room comfortable apartment you got in the city center. I really liked her, and although my personal vehicle I didn’t have one - not counting the bicycle I bought with my salary, and the company car - I still really liked it there. For villagers, and I’m still more of a villager, although I lived with my parents before their death in Bryansk, life in the Union is somehow easier than for city dwellers. We are more unpretentious and not so demanding.

“Okay,” I spat and stood up. – Everything is unclear yet. If this is confirmed with the Poles, I will think about what to do next. Until the situation is clarified, I will not make plans. I don't see the point.

Mechanically swatting away the midges, I walked away from the shore, took the blade out of its sheath, examined it - excellent steel - and, returning it to its place, ran deep into the forest. Naturally, I won’t be able to follow exactly the tracks that Seva followed, and anyway, if this is the forty-first, will we meet? Or is this quest for one? If so, then it seems that you will have to get out on your own and there will be no one to rely on. At least initially, after that you can put together a strong team of those around you.

I think I was lucky, I found the path. Bestial, like the one Seva described. I noticed it by accident. She led me to a clearing with mown grass collected in stacks. Yes, it seems that my guesses are confirmed, there are too many coincidences.

I didn’t spend the night in a haystack; I’m unlikely to be able to get away from the Poles, as Seva did, so I made myself a bed at the edge of the rosehip bushes, hauling hay from one of the haystacks. And in such a way as not to leave traces. Walking barefoot was not entirely comfortable, but that’s okay, I’m used to it. The fact that I hid at the edge of the forest helped me remain unnoticed.

In the morning, when it was already dawn, I was awakened by the neighing of a horse. Quickly opening my eyes, I looked out from under the bush and thoughtfully examined the guests. Now everything has been completely confirmed: two Poles, the description of appearance and clothing coincides with what Seva gave, even the cart was described correctly. But the Poles didn’t have any weapons; they quite calmly worked with pitchforks, loading the cart. I think the weapon is just inside.

Now that material evidence had appeared, without hesitating for a second, he slid along the edge of the forest to the side. By the way, the Poles never pulled Seva out of the haystack, from which I logically concluded that the quest was for me alone. It became clear that my famous namesake was not here. Well, now I have a chance to become no less famous. I need to think about it, but later, when I have free time, now I have another task. Unlike Seva, I didn’t have any doubts and acted with confidence and certainty. Therefore, I quickly shook off all the debris and bugs - sleeping in a wetsuit on the ground, although I spread hay on myself, is not very pleasant, you won’t even scratch it - and left the place where I spent the night. I need to go around the clearing so as to get closer to the cart without being noticed by the Poles. Now they were working on the other side of the edge of the forest where I spent the night. By the way, they didn’t bite me that badly; before going to bed, I wiped my hands, feet, face and neck with one piece of grass. So the night, one might say, passed peacefully; none of the crawling and biting brethren harassed me. Yes, little things.

It was not difficult for me to get to the cart unnoticed. Talking quietly, the Poles were so carried away by their work that they woke up when the shutter of the Berdan gun clicked. Maybe there were other firearms in the cart, but, unfortunately, this was the only one I came across, so after checking the cartridge in the chamber, I made some noise, causing the Poles to flinch and freeze. My first question was randomly:

– Does Janek still wear the uniform of a Red Army commander?

The locals turned around and stared with bulging eyes at the miracle Yudo, who pointed their own weapon at them. I think they had never seen wetsuits, although I was wearing a standard one. Black, with open feet and sleeves to the wrists.

– Why are we silent, why don’t we answer? – I asked.

While tracking all the movements of the Poles, I did not forget to also monitor the surrounding area. Of course, I knew everything from Seva’s stories, but you never know what will happen. I still had a little doubt, so I tried to dispel it with this unexpected clarifying question. If it turns out to be true, then I definitely took Seva’s place in 1941, and I have a chance to new life. Moreover, unlike Seva, I had the necessary knowledge and skills. He got here without much preparation, but I prepared myself, willy-nilly. I communicated mainly with front-line soldiers, and they accepted me as one of their own, yet I had to participate in the hostilities of both worlds. That is, the front-line soldiers did not hide anything and willingly answered clarifying questions, so I was in the know. And I was awarded for that raid behind German lines, so I had something to wear in my jacket. After all, I was a military man and wore uniform. True, he did not outgrow the starley's shoulder straps, although after a year he could have received captain's stars. Yes, I was an officer. When he was first awarded in the Kremlin, he received the rank of junior lieutenant, and the rest was earned for his work. By the way, I received the Starley and the second Order of the Red Star for my invaluable help in creating the T-55 prototype. We released it at the end of 1945, then tested it at the Kubinka training ground. It was then that I was awarded, and I received an apartment. Already in 1946, these vehicles began to arrive in small quantities to the troops and immediately created a sensation with their power. Of course, we could have tried to make other equipment, but factories from Germany had only just begun to arrive and be installed, and we couldn’t build anything better with the machines that we had so far. I was at the design bureau helping with the creation of the T-62 when it was decided to return to our world. I then insisted on my participation - while I lived these three and a half years in a new world for myself, I could not forget my grandmother. And then it so happened that during the transition I found myself in the third world, and my own path opened up before me. Seva was able to take full advantage of it, now is my chance for a personal quest, and I would not want to lose it. That’s why I looked around so that I wouldn’t be caught off guard like I was with these Poles.

Hmm, yes, I got distracted, although the situation was not conducive to it. Pointing the gun at the young Pole, I repeated my question, this time in an angry voice - I didn’t like that they didn’t answer me:

– So, Janek still wears the uniform of a Red Army lieutenant?

“Well, he walks,” the young man answered reluctantly.

“Great,” I involuntarily smiled. - So, let’s quickly undress. Both. Take off your underwear too. Hurry up, my grandmother is waiting for me there, and I’m hanging out with you here... Well!

The Poles began to undress as if they had been exhausted, throwing their clothes into one common pile. I don’t know what prompted them so much, whether it was my angry appearance, or the weapon, or the mention of my grandmother. By the way, when I remember her, for some reason always standing on the porch and sadly looking at me, and such anger rolls over that I may not see her again, that I can barely control myself. Apparently, the Poles sensed this, so they were in a hurry. There was a slight hiccup with the boots - they fit tightly, but they also took them off. By the way, if the need arises, you need to remember your grandmother in order to bring yourself to condition. Anger at the right time is a good help.

As soon as both Poles froze, covering their groins with their hands, I asked another question:

– What date is today?

“Twenty-one,” the young man muttered gloomily. The one with the beard remained silent, only looking at me with some anger and hatred.

The butt of the rifle pushed me hard into the shoulder, and the bearded man, mechanically clutching his chest - the hit was right in the heart - began to fall onto his back. The young man froze for a second, stunned. True, he quickly came to his senses and rushed towards me, but it was too late, I just didn’t hesitate, rushed to the young man and smashed his face with the butt. I could have thrown the weapon to the side, I still had nothing to reload, and I wouldn’t have had time, the Poles were six meters away. But now, when the second Pole, clutching the injured area, fell on his back, I carefully laid the rifle on the grass, took out the blade and hit him under the ribs right in the heart. One blow was enough. Pulling out the blade, I quickly looked around and nodded contentedly. So far everything was going as I had planned. Now I have plans to change my clothes, change appearance under the aborigine and move towards the farm. You can, of course, not go there, but knowing that there was clearly a local resistance cell on the farm that was collaborating with the Germans, I considered it necessary to behead it. I was aware that the elder on the farm was an agent in the robes of a clergyman. So I should remove it. With the rest, as it turns out, according to Seva, the rest were simple militants.

Quickly stabbing the blade into the ground to wipe away the blood, I further wiped it with a bunch of dried grass, and then returned it to its sheath. The first thing I did was check the bodies. Both are corpses. He looked around the cart, dumping the excess hay. I decided to clean up the cart and the gelding rather than travel on foot if I had gotten a good vehicle, so I carried out an inspection. Unfortunately, there was only one firearm - a Berdanka, and in relatively good condition, but there were only six cartridges for it. After reloading there are five left. By the way, the cartridges were filled with smokeless powder, although I heard that the Berdan guns used smokeless powder. Or I'm wrong? Apparently not.

There were two belts in the cart. On one there were pouches with ammunition, matches and other necessary things. Both have scabbards with blades. One is good, the other is so-so. The blade is not made of the best metal; if you don’t take care of the knife, it will quickly become covered with rust, crappy metal, with shells. Now it’s clear why both Poles were not belted; they took them off before work. There were also two bundles of food in the cart, but I left the food for later, I need to leave the clearing, and eat on the way to the farm. There was no doubt about where to go; there was only one road leading into the clearing. There were several more paths, but I couldn’t get there with a cart. It’s easier on the road, while they don’t know about me here, I need to take advantage of this.

Having hung the berdanka on my shoulder, I picked up the nearest body and dragged it to the edge of the forest, deciding to camouflage it in the bushes where I spent the night. Both Poles were taller than me, much heavier, but I have broad shoulders and enough strength to drag both of them in turn. Having hidden the bodies, I took off my overalls and drowned them, along with my belt, in a deep barrel not far from the clearing. There was generally quite a swampy area here. Only after that, having happily scratched myself in previously inaccessible places, I plunged into the water of the same barrel and ran back.

Naked, shivering from the morning cool, he ran back to the clearing and froze next to a pile of clothes. I selected a cleaner shirt and pants from two sets and quickly got dressed, but I didn’t touch the underwear, it needed to be washed, but the shoes didn’t fit me. I'm embarrassed to admit, but my foot size was small. Fortieth. And as trophies I got real shitty ones of sizes forty-four and forty-five. There is nothing to do, the boots are good, don’t throw them away, I tied them into one bundle and threw them into the cart, they will come in handy, they are made with high quality. After that, I picked up my underwear, not forgetting to tie the remaining clothes into one knot and throw them after my boots, I ran to the same barrel. I didn’t have soap, so I washed my linen and footcloths with whatever I had – clay and sand. Nothing, it took me half an hour, but I washed it off. Having squeezed out the water, he also ran back to the clearing and threw the underwear on the grass, so that it would dry, took the reins and, throwing them over the gelding’s head, sat down on the handle, after which he snapped the reins on the horse’s back:

- Let's go, Trophy!

The gelding slowly moved the cart from its place and headed towards the edge of the forest, where a forest road could be seen as a dark tunnel. We had to turn the cart around before this, since its stern was facing the road. I looked like a local. Of course, both Poles were a head taller than me, it was because of my short stature that I ended up in the tank forces, not only because I had a tractor driver’s license, but the work there was such that I developed muscles quite quickly. The shoulders, there, expanded, muscles appeared. So if both shirts fit, then the trouser legs had to be rolled up so that bare feet could be seen. For now I look like this, but when I get shoes that fit, then I’ll change my appearance from a villager to a wartime man. We'll see about the situation. There are a couple of steps to the border, you need to get out, otherwise you won’t get noticed by the border guards. Seva, by a lucky chance, somehow managed without their attention, I hope I’ll be lucky too.

The gelding slowly rearranged his limbs, and I didn’t rush him, and noticing that he himself knew the way, I put down the reins, pressing them with my right foot to free up my hands, pulled the nearest bundle of provisions towards me and greedily dug into it. Well, the food, although simple, was satisfying, and most importantly, familiar to me. Quite rustic. I immediately grabbed the top, with a trophy knife, the better one, cut myself a piece, took a slice of lard - it was already chopped - and had breakfast with pleasure. The fact that I had previously sent two people unknown to me, or rather poorly known, to the next world, did not curb my appetite at all. I saw a lot of deaths, yet I was a participant in the hostilities of both worlds, so the death of the Poles remained in the background for me. Yes, I already forgot about them. This is what distinguishes a man who has fought from an ordinary citizen - he knows how to cut off the death of other people. The main thing here is to determine that they are your enemies, so they are quickly forgotten.

The food was filling, but not varied, so I ate well, even the vegetables were in order. I'm talking about onions and garlic - it's the same with lard. I washed it down with kvass from a glass bottle plugged with a stalk. By the way, in our village we also used cobs in this way, although residents of rural areas where there were vast fields used corn cobs for this, but it did not grow in our country. The kvass was strong, on point, and I liked it. I drained a third of the two-liter bottle, then returned the cap to its place and folded the knot again. I only examined the second one and didn’t touch anything there, I just checked to see if there was anything perishable. By the way, the second bundle contained a bottle of milk. And in general the difference in the contents of the nodules was noticeable. At first I didn’t understand why there were two nodes with provisions, if both Poles from the same farm could put everything into one, they work together, and then I realized that one had an ulcer or gastritis, and he was on a diet.

After breakfast, I cleaned up the cart and, leaving the rifle lying on the edge, jumped onto the forest road, took the gelding by the bridle and led him further myself, listening to the sounds in the forest. The cart didn’t creak much, it was clear that it was taken care of and lubricated properly, so nothing interfered with my listening. While we were walking like this, I began to think about what to do next. The situation became completely clear; for reasons unknown to me, I was thrown into the third world, where Seva and other travelers were not there. And at the same time and place, like my famous namesake. At first after the hit, I still didn’t know how to react to all this, but now I’ve already decided. I'm staying. I won’t live by the portal and try to return. Since I was given a chance, I need to take advantage of it. One thing was clear: there was no point in going to Stalin right away. There were several reasons for this. I’m nothing to him, and besides, I didn’t want to miss the fun that happened in the fiery summer of 1941. But when I have a name, and I was sure that I would become famous, then I will declare myself... Hmm, all this, of course, is good, but knowing about the major defeats of our troops, I simply cannot keep silent about it. Our guys will die there, and I will remain silent to maintain incognito? Not in life. So I was faced with a problem that I thought about as I walked along the forest road and listened to the forest. Seva’s story was confirmed again; I heard a distant dog barking. It sounded cheerful, the dogs were either being fed, or someone was playing with them.

Having tied the reins to a tree near the road, otherwise the gelding was still stretching towards the farm, I picked up the rifle and quickly ran towards the barking dog. Look how they are filling up! I was wearing a belt with pouches and two blades, so, one might say, I was fully armed.

After running only about fifty meters, I noticed an opening ahead. He slowed down and, going to the edge of the forest, and then into the forest, began to sneak towards the farm. Having reached the edge, he picked up a suitable tree and, instantly flying up onto it, began to inspect the farm. Well, Janek, in a lieutenant’s uniform, was in the yard, watching the children playing with the dogs, so the last doubts disappeared. Having finished with the inspection, I went down and ran back to the cart. Before we start shooting, and I didn’t want to pass by, we first need to prepare an escape route. The road along which I moved from the clearing meandered from the border into the depths of our territories, so in order to get further from it, it was necessary to cross the farm through which it passed, and I could not do this without revealing myself. This means that you will have to drive the cart through the forest, winding between the trees. That's exactly what I did. It took me a little over an hour to walk around the village. But I was in no hurry to take the cart out onto the forest road, I watered the horse in the stream and left it in the forest, after which I ran back to the farm with a rifle. Quite interesting events took place there.

Having climbed a tree, I witnessed how a flying combat detachment of Poles was about to leave - obviously to commit sabotage in our rear. In the case of Seva, apparently this did not happen due to his unexpected appearance, but here five Poles were gathering. Moreover, three of them were in our uniform: Lieutenant Janek, two more in the uniform of ordinary Red Army soldiers. The two remaining were in old Polish uniforms and, judging by the machine gun, were his crew.

“How interesting,” I muttered thoughtfully, studying the changed situation on the territory of the farm.

The residents saw off the detachment quite cordially, it was clear how they wished them luck, such brutes. Among the farmers, the black robe of a clergyman also flashed. I don’t know whether he was a real priest or a priest, but he played well. To be honest, what I saw at the farm made me hurry up. Of course, it’s more expensive to get involved with such a combat detachment, but I wanted to let him go for a walk in our rear areas even less. By the way, where did the machine gun come from? He never appeared in Seva’s stories.

From the edge of the forest to the farm there were two hundred meters, to the crowd of farmers - all of two hundred and fifty. I adjusted the scope - I had never shot at such a range from this weapon, and I did not know all the capabilities of the rifle, so I aimed well. For aimed shooting I didn’t need to get closer, Seva is a so-so shooter, and I can do something. Naturally, I was targeting a German agent in the robes of a clergyman, and it was he who was main goal, which means you need to start with it.

The pop of the shot reverberated painfully in my ears, and the butt pushed into my shoulder. However, I had already knocked out the used cartridge case and inserted a cartridge into the receiver. Two pieces for quick reloading were clamped in my teeth. I decided to shoot Janek next, but I had to change my plans on the fly. The machine gunners unexpectedly quickly reacted to the shooting. One of them knelt down on one knee, and the second put the barrel of a machine gun on his shoulder - by the way, I still can’t figure out what model it was - and opened fire. He shot at the edge of the forest, apparently, they did not see the smoke of my first shot, so the bullets dug into the trees below me and on the sides, but also below. They'll take it a little higher, and that's it, that's the end of the kitten. By the sound, the machine gunners determined where they were shooting from, but they still didn’t understand that I was in a tree. So it's clear who I shot next.

The first bullet entered the cleric's stomach, causing him to collapse onto the dusty ground. I was aiming for the chest, so, having estimated the trajectory of the bullet from the berdank, I shot at the machine gunner. Again the bullet did not fly exactly where I was aiming. No, the hit was excellent, but the spread was still decent. I aimed at the machine gunner and, although I hit him, the bullet entered first into the head of his assistant, and then into the stomach of the machine gunner himself - he stood up, reloading. By the way, it looks like it was a Browning, the magazine clearly held twenty rounds and was inserted from the bottom, and not like the Bren from the top.

Having reloaded again, I began to look for the next targets, but there were none. The farmers hid, and only those I had shot lay in plain sight. Realizing that a long firefight would not be in my favor, and I had completed my task - the priest was lying in the dust and, judging by the agony, was already leaving - I rolled down and ran to the cart. Although I couldn’t get Janek, I killed the machine gunners, and they were very good specialists, judging by their actions.

Troubling shots were still heard from the direction of the farm, but I did not pay attention to them; the locals had not yet realized that I had already left. Having safely reached the cart, I took it out onto the road and, hiding the harness under the hay, put my belt and pouches there, and clicked the reins. This time I did not hold back the gelding, moreover, I also urged him on. Only in those places where tree roots crawled onto the road did he take a step so as not to break the wheels, and where there was a more or less normal road, he moved very quickly.

There was no persecution, I never noticed it, I’m sure the Poles, if they hadn’t pulled them away from the farm, deciding that they had been fired upon by border guards or someone else from our group, were probably just starting to find out what had happened, so I had a big head start. By the time they find out where I took the trophy cart, I will be very far away.

After about five kilometers the forest ended and the fields began. In the distance a strip of the next forest could be seen, but apparently it was small and did not occupy the entire horizon. By the way, some of our motorized units were standing to the left, and mushrooms with sentries were visible. Not tanks, there were mostly trucks, guns stood openly, and some armored vehicles were visible from the “BA” line. Although there were tanks too, I recognized the BT-7 by the familiar silhouettes. Hmm, judging by the equipment, it was a reconnaissance battalion.

Naturally, I didn’t gallop out to the edge. Noticing a gap, he first did some reconnaissance and, not finding anything serious, began to put his appearance in order. He put the bearded man's wide-brimmed hat on his head, took off his clothes, put on clean and dry underwear, hid his Berdanka, and took off his belt with pouches. In general, I was prepared. Now from the outside I am a real villager. Having made sure that I was not attracting attention, I took the cart and, clicking the reins, moved further on the cart, playing the role of a simple farmer. The main thing is that I should not be stopped or questioned. I'll be sorry, I didn't know the local language. I think he's called a surzhik. Although it’s better not to get caught by the patrols, it’s the army guys who don’t care about me. Thinking for a second, at the crossroads where the well-worn road turned towards the summer camp of the army unit, I turned towards them. It was necessary to convey some information, you never know.

To be honest, I can’t say I liked the situation I found myself in. I haven’t yet decided how to react to what happened, but I had regrets. I remembered with regret about other travelers, how they were there, but most importantly, about my only close person - my grandmother. It was because of her that I decided to return to my home world for a short time in order to say goodbye to her forever. I liked the world of the Soviet Union, so I was going to return there. I was happy with everything about it, and I wanted to help the state get on a peaceful path. Yes, I am not a civilian specialist, but rather a military man, I work in Kubinka as an inspector, a full-time specialist in a secret design bureau, and am additionally studying to become a design engineer; I have already switched to correspondence study in my third year. The specialization is the same - tanks. That is why this situation upset me: I didn’t see my grandmother, and I lost the world where I took a good place and was in good standing with the head of state; I had to meet Comrade Stalin more than once as an expert on modern armored vehicles. In general, there is sadness on all sides. Consider that you even lost the two-room comfortable apartment you got in the city center. I really liked it, and although I didn’t have my own personal vehicle - not to mention the bicycle I bought with my salary and a company car - I still really liked it there. For villagers, and I’m still more of a villager, although I lived with my parents before their death in Bryansk, life in the Union is somehow easier than for city dwellers. We are more unpretentious and not so demanding.

Vladimir Poselyagin

I am a tanker

* * *Prologue

* * *

Vladimir Poselyagin

I am a tanker

To be honest, I can’t say I liked the situation I found myself in. I haven’t yet decided how to react to what happened, but I had regrets. I remembered with regret about other travelers, how they were there, but most importantly, about my only close person - my grandmother. It was because of her that I decided to return to my home world for a short time in order to say goodbye to her forever. I liked the world of the Soviet Union, so I was going to return there. I was happy with everything about it, and I wanted to help the state get on a peaceful path. Yes, I am not a civilian specialist, but rather a military man, I work in Kubinka as an inspector, a full-time specialist in a secret design bureau, and am additionally studying to become a design engineer; I have already switched to correspondence study in my third year. The specialization is the same - tanks. That is why this situation upset me: I didn’t see my grandmother, and I lost the world where I took a good place and was in good standing with the head of state; I had to meet Comrade Stalin more than once as an expert on modern armored vehicles. In general, there is sadness on all sides. Consider that you even lost the two-room comfortable apartment you got in the city center. I really liked it, and although I didn’t have my own personal vehicle - not to mention the bicycle I bought with my salary and a company car - I still really liked it there. For villagers, and I’m still more of a villager, although I lived with my parents before their death in Bryansk, life in the Union is somehow easier than for city dwellers. We are more unpretentious and not so demanding.

ROOKIE

The war broke out unexpectedly. Only in the spring did the Pravda newspaper assure that Germany had signed a Non-Aggression Pact with the Soviet Union and now we are friends. There was even a parade of joint Soviet and German troops in Bialystok.

Pavel did not immediately learn about the war. He hung out with his school friends until the morning after the prom. Then I went swimming with the guys, and when we returned, we immediately noticed changes in the town. People stood around the loudspeakers, their faces gloomy.

- What happened? - Pavel asked.

- War! Germany attacked the Soviet Union at four o'clock in the morning. Here, Molotov’s appeal is being transmitted.

At first the news was stunned, but then he was even happy. Why! The lot of grandfathers and fathers was the revolution, the civil war, clashes on the Chinese Eastern Railway, even the Finnish war. And our volunteers, pilots and tank crews - those who fought in Spain?

He himself had nothing interesting - only studying, and even fishing with the guys. No, the Nazis attacked the wrong ones. If only we could get to the war in time! The Red Army will defeat the enemy in a few days and will continue to fight on its territory.

We need to run to the military registration and enlistment office! He has a “Voroshilov shooter” badge and has parachuted from a tower twice.

And Pavel went to the military registration and enlistment office.

There was bustle there, military men were running around, teams of men called up from the reserve were forming up in the courtyard - with backpacks and suitcases.

But the guards on duty at the entrance didn’t even let him in.

- How old are you?

- Seventeen.

“When you grow up, then we’ll call you.”

- Yes, by then the war will end!

- Guy, go, don’t bother me. Not up to you!

Pashka lived not far from Engels, in a small town, in the Republic of the Volga Germans. It was like this before the war. And they spoke Russian no worse than their native language. And Pashka, communicating with them, learned German. True, he made mistakes in German lessons at school, but he spoke quickly, and even in the Pomeranian dialect.

In the evening my parents came home from work. The mother was in tears, all in tears, the father was gloomy.

Pashka first wanted to cheer up his parents. Why cry if the war ends soon, before it really begins? Only my father said at dinner that an employee from the passport office came to work with them and handed many summonses to the military registration and enlistment office.

After dinner, father and mother had a long discussion about where to place their son? His mother was inclined to have Pashka continue his studies at the local communications college, but his father decided otherwise.

- Let him come to our workshops for now and bring some kind of penny into the house. Look how many free places we have organized. He will acquire a working profession, but his studies will not go anywhere.

The next day my father went to work with Pashka.

So Pashka got a job as an apprentice mechanic in a workshop.

As it turned out later, the father was right. Stores quickly ran out of food, and workers began to be given work ration cards. All of Pashka’s peers got jobs.

And reports from the fronts came more and more alarmingly. The Germans frantically rushed towards Moscow. After a month of fighting, almost all of Belarus and part of Ukraine were already occupied. The first funerals began to arrive in the town.

Pavel kept waiting - when would the Red Army deliver the decisive blow? When will the Germans be chased away? During the lunch break, after listening to the Information Bureau's report, which listed the cities abandoned after heavy battles, he argued until he was hoarse with the same apprentices.

- Comrade Stalin, as well as Voroshilov and Budyonny, are luring the fascists, and then whatever they give! Like Kutuzov!

But month after month passed, reports from the fronts became even more alarming and terrible, and life became more and more difficult.