Ch 8 A Cold Winter
The winter of 1941 was particularly cold, even by Russian standard. In front of the merciless law of nature, animals and birds utilized all sorts of methods to their advantage in order to avoid the distressing winter—either flying to the warm south or hiding in caves or underground.
What was left on this endless snowfield were the soldiers.
"Russia is big, but now we have nowhere to retreat. Behind us is Moscow!"
The division Wang Yao belonged to was guarding this road in Moscow suburb, to ensure that the crucial line of transportation wouldn't be compromised by the enemy. Every day at noon, military trucks carrying injuried soldiers and important materials would drive on this frozen road to Moscow. The canvas layed outside the truck flapped with the wind and were covered with frost and snow, reflecting a glow of rainbow colors under the pale afternoon sunlight.
Soldiers were rooted on this piece of land and became the souls of the soil. They breathed the air of the land and felt the warmth and mercy contained deep down under the icy cold exterior.
"We are close to the land because our hearts are like this piece of land: firm as steel in the extreme cold; however, deep inside the soil mainteined a power that bears everything that is beautiful and pure." Wang Yao wrote down on a small piece of paper.
The poplars and birchs had lost all the leaves by the end of Octorber. Wang Yao could no longer collect leaves in early morning like he did in Autumn. The bunker, however, did not lose the radiance. In the place of the pile of leaves rose a small sun.
That was a sunflower sitting in half a bottle of water. Previously, a nearby biology lab was bombed. Wang Yao stood at the ruins and felt incredibily sad—he had always wanted to be a biologist. In the wrecked incubation room covered with clutters and bomb shells, only a small flower still lived. Natasha held it in those girl hands and brought it back to the bunker. The little thing bloomed in spite of its season like a small flame.
Recently, everytime when Natasha came to the bunker, she would stop by the desk and a smile climbed to the corner of her mouth, appearing particularly adorable. Wang Yao also noticed with a biology-enthusiast's sensitivity, that the sunflower survived for so many days outside of the lab.
He soon discovered the secret of this magic. Toris loved this little flower and placed it in just the right distance from the heater so that it received enough warmth but not too much to be burned. More importantly, he found that Toris put his daily ration of sugar into the water. Wang Yao knew what it meant: sugar kept the flower longer…
Like all beautiful things that fleet at the blink of an eye, the flower couldn't bloom forever. When the the sunflower withered, Wang Yao found that Toris was already used to not eating sugar—he saved his rations in a little bag.
"Toris! Are you waiting for Natasha to bring new flowers?"
"You found out about it, huh? She would smile when she looked at the flower. How lovely…"
"So love is like this?" Wang Yao held his friend's shoulder and sighed, "To let you torture yourself like this?"
"Maybe she's a bit stuck-up or never say a kind word…but a girl who loves flowers in the middle of a war must be a good girl…"
Natasha. Those small hands could take care of wounded soldiers with great patience; or pick up a gun and break through the enemy's line with everyone else. Her hands could squeeze Toris' fingers without hesitate till they hurt, and they could also hold a small flower from the ruins with great tenderness. This splendid girl of tremendous beauty and peculiar remoteness—what a remarkable person! No wonder she was the sister of cavalry soldier Ivan Braginsky…
Somehow, Wang Yao's heart lightened up whenever he thought of the guy who always had a smile on his face. Whenver he got the time, Wang Yao couldn't help but to look over to the cavalry's side, searching for that brilliant white horse and that brilliant rider. At first, he felt uneasy about himself missing a person so much, but soon he found himself a good reason—that man had a horse exactly the same as his Feiyun; thus, his lingering mind could be explained.
Then he saw him…like that early morning in October when he was sketching under a tree. Kostya was in the barn gnawing on oats wholeheartedly. Wang Yao quickly walked up to him.
"Vanya!" Now he had already started addressing him like a close friend, "Where's that portrait you promised me?"
Ivan shook his head apologetically, "I can't make it."
"Why? Didn't you say that you can draw a person from sheer memory?"
"It's weird. It works on everybody except you. Just the other day when I tried to sketch you, I just couldn't catch that feel of it."
Wang Yao was suddenly in a lighthearted spirit. He sat down on the ground in front of Ivan and said like a cheerful little kid, "Well, I'm sitting right here. Come on, draw me!"
Ivan paused for a moment before his two hands attempted a start on paper; then he laughed.
"No, Yao! That's not the problem! I have said that I'll never be able to forget your face. But, thinking about drawing you out with my own two hands, especially that you are just next door somehow give me a strange feeling that interrupted my inspiration…Especially now that you're sitting right in front of me, I just can't do it …"
"Maybe one day when I was assigned to somewhere else, you would be able to!" A childish emotion of resentment all of a sudden covered over his heart. He reached out his hand to Ivan, "Let me see your sketches."
Ivan took out a small sack from his bag and handed over a fold of paper to him. Their daily ration contained paper for soldiers to roll cigarettes, but Ivan saved his for sketching.
In the pile of pencil sketches, there were soldiers from their cavalry unit, magnificent autumn field, solemn statue of Pushkin, military trucks leaving for Moscow…but most were horses. Beautiful white horse Kostya just like his Feiyun…
Suddenly a warmth rose up from his heart. "Vanya!" As he handed over the sketches to Ivan, Wang Yao couldn't resist the excitement. "Can you let me ride Kostya?"
Ivan nodded. Wang Yao pulled out that beautiful white horse and hopped onto the horseback in a swift and handsome gesture, then galloped away towards the barren woods in the distance.
-TBC