Ch 17 Pondering Over A Question

Only after a long time did Ivan finally knew where that alleged commanding center was, but by then, it didn't have much use anymore. This reconnaissance squad named "crane" had already sent back sufficient information to the headquarter; enemy's searching circle of the "crane" was closing in as well. And most importantly, in just two days their major troops would start out massive counterstrike and a great area of lands including the Rogachevo—Bereza region would be back to the hands of their own people.

If only had they decided to return immediately, they would still have a very good chance returning to their base; or, maybe just hide out in Mikhalech's cabin for two nights until their troops came.

"—But why do you still go to the village of Bereza? To a place that would be reclaimed in two days but is heavily occupied for the moment? You were never discouraged or upset during the mission, but just when it was near the end, you were talking about 'ifs' and 'worst cases'. In Bereza, there'll be a most difficult test of a lifetime—perhaps a scout's instinct already told you so. But, you went anyway, perhaps the pride and responsibility of a scout told you so…Alas! That's what scouts are…"

Ivan Branginsky only had less than four years' time to think about this question. In 1945 after the war's ended, he did not dare to think of it anymore, and not able to think of it anymore. If he kept thinking, he would almost have to climb onto a fast horse like Kostya rushing back to that December's cold night of 1941, stop the two before they went into the village and say, "Let's go back!"

But where could he find a horse like Kostya? Other horses might even run faster than him, but only Kostya could catch up with the years and ages lost in the stream of time—because out of all the horses, only that pair of dark round eyes could see into his heart.

And out of all people, there was only one pair of dark round eyes that see into his soul. In the entire lofty life of magnificent rider, soldier and artist Ivan Braginsky, he gave in for the first time before that pair of eyes that could have sunken the entire universe—and, stayed in the woods, instead of going into the village with Wang Yao.

"Why did I give in to him? Ivan will never give in for the second time!" He leaned against the trunk under a big tree, blaming himself, "I should've stayed with him!"

The memory of Wang Yao's child-like gesture as he changed his coat in the ranger's cabin ran into his heart bluntly, giving a moment of tearing pain in his chest. He—Ivan Braginsky—born and raised in the village of Bereza, now coming back to the enemy-occupied homeland only to dodge and hide like a convict, and, instead, letting him go in—that boyish young man without a single person to depend on in the foreign land of Russia…

Suddenly, an abrupt sound of handgun firing followed by hurried sounds of machine guns swept across from the village direction coming into Ivan's sensitive ears, appearing particularly clear in the stagnated cold air. Then, a series of alarms and command orders… A group of German soldiers with guns in their hands were running out of the village and searching around. Except that Ivan wouldn't let them to find him. Growing up in this land, he knew every single hideout spot in the woods when he was still a little boy playing fighting games. The dear old forest of homeland!

Ivan stayed perfectly still, listening to the sounds of leather boots. His left hand tightly clenched to the coarse tree trunk and right hand reaching over to the hand grenade tied on his belt—only one left. How he wished he could throw a few, killed them all and rushed into the village to find him!

After everything settled back down to still silence, Ivan jumped out from his hideout and, like a truly experienced infantry scout, cautiously advacing to his home village without delay.

"Yao, you little fool." He complained softly in his heart, "Ivan the Devil already surrendered to you once. Never expect him to give in twice…"

Ivan almost ran into a patrol team; luckily, he dodged into the bushes by a row of houses like an agile cat. This was a great lookout spot: everything could be observed with ease while he himself was hidden in the darkness. The last similarly competent spot was that late autumn afternoon under the Pushkin bronze statue in Moscow park, when he and Wang Yao were pressing so close to each other, peeking over with naïve curiosity to Toris and Natasha standing not faraway from them. The four young people, observing and being observed, were all so young and so beautiful…

Right then, he saw—at the corner of the house on the opposite side—a man lying on the ground. It was Egorov. This former guerilla fighter was discovered here and bled his last drop of blood in the street fight… But where was Yao? That clever, handsome, good-hearted friend who occasionally threw a childly tantrum—where was him?

He couldn't bear the sight of Egorov's body and diverted his sight—then, all the blood inside his body froze in an instant. On top of the hanging pole erected beside him were six bodies swaying in the air like ghostly shadows. He silently repositioned himself to see their faces—these were the six men old gramp Mikhalech mentioned before. The sixth body was his childhood good friend Mishka, betrayed by the other good friend Dimka… The once quiet and modest face was covered with the grayish shade of iron, as if it was sculpted out of a piece of dark wood…

Ivan's heart was also wrapped with a hanging rope, rendering him breathless. But the sky was almost about to light up, so he was forced to find a reliabel hideout spot and go from there. As to where Wang Yao was and in what condition, he had not a clue. All he knew was that he would never leave him behind.

That lovely bright face—sometimes tender and amiable, sometimes solitary and serious—had stamped on his heart since very the first time they met. He didn't even have time to sketch him portrait, how could he imagine this unforgettable face be possibly covered with the shadow of death, like the people on the hanging pole?

"I knew you must be alive, in my tormented homeland of Bereza." uttered Ivan silently to the pitch-dark village at the break of dawn. "No need to answer, because there isn't a person that Ivan can not find…"