Red Army

On the left, the river glowed with the reflection of the burning buildings on the west bank. Great pockets of fire rose on the far side of the river, and, as Levin watched, a mortar fired a parachute flare, then another, and a distant machine gun searched out targets. Levin looked at his watch.

Past four. It would soon be light. That meant the enemy would be coming soon. Otherwise, the Soviet armored columns would beat them to the crossings. Levin had great faith in the Soviet tankers. They would not let their comrades down. He pictured how it would be when the Soviet tanks inevitably arrived, rolling over the bridges with salutes for the worn-out survivors of the air-assault operation. He imagined it in tones similar to the triumphant scenes that always ended films about the Great Patriotic War. This was genuinely the stuff of heroic legends, Levin realized, and he was thrilled to be a part of it. He felt as though all of his life had pointed him toward this event. He sprinted across the street toward the hospital.

"Anureyev's badly wounded," Lieutenant Colonel Gordunov told Levin. "He's not going to make it. Shot by his own shitty little buggers in the dark."

"Anureyev's a good officer, Comrade Battalion Commander. I'm sorry."

"Was a good officer. He's meat for the worms now. But that's what soldiering is about, too, Levin."

"He will have died for a noble cause."

199

Ralph Peters

Gordunov shook his head. Levin sensed that the battalion commander had been about to say something biting, then thought better of it.

"Anyway, I'm putting you in command of the entire eastern bank. You need to get down to Anureyev's positions on the southern approaches and have a quick look around. If the troops are spread too thin, pull them back. We'll make the bastards fight for every block. But no matter what happens, remember that the primary mission is to retain the northern bridge. That doesn't mean give up the southern bridge without a fight.

But the priorities are clear."

"I understand, Comrade Commander."

Gordunov looked him in the eyes. The battalion commander had green eyes as noncommittal as a cat's. In the momentary silence, the smell of their still-damp uniforms mingled with the odors of the hospital.

"I hope you do understand," Gordunov said finally. "Look. As near as I can make out, you have about one hundred and fifteen men left on this side of the river. That doesn't include my headquarters section. The situation on the western bank looks worse, and I've had to reinforce it.

I'm going to go over there myself and straighten things out, but I'm leaving the long-range communications here with you. We'll split the command post. I can't be encumbered over there. But I have no doubt that they'll hit you, too. They may try to coordinate an attack from both directions at once. Form a small shock assault-grouping, even if it means thinning the lines. Say about fifteen or twenty men. Enough to make a local difference. Keep them ready in a central location. Be ready to assist me, or to weight the fight at the most threatened point."

"I understand."

"I expect we have enough ammunition. But don't hesitate to make use of the captured weaponry."

A plan began to form in Levin's mind. "Where are the prisoners now?"

he asked.

Gordunov stared at him, calculating. "Down in the basement. Don't get a weak stomach, Levin. If you can't control the situation, kill them."

Levin did not answer immediately. He tried to think of the best way to phrase his proposition without angering Gordunov or seeming presump-tuous. In the background, hospital noises underlined the more distant noises of battle. The Western doctors were caring for all of the wounded, Soviet, British, German, military, and civilian. But that situation, too, was becoming unmanageable.

"Comrade Commander," Levin began, "if I am to control this bank, I request permission to move your remaining battalion command ele-200

RED ARMY

ments out of the hospital. If you're going across the river, let me move the communications troops and everyone else down to a central location. I can't protect them adequately up here. We'd need to extend the perimeter farther to the north."

"Have a site in mind?" Gordunov said, with no trace of his famous temper.

"The old town hall," Levin said quickly. "There's good elevation for the radio sets, it's well constructed, and it's perfectly centered. We can leave light antitank elements up here to cover the northern approaches and the bridge. And I'll outpost the choke points along the road to the north. Of course, the wounded will stay here, but I'll take our own medical personnel along with me to establish a more centrally located aid station."

"All right," Gordunov said. "That sounds logical enough. But don't go soft on me, Levin."

Levin was relieved. He had been prepared to argue his point. "And the prisoners," he said. "I'll move them into the basement of the town hall.