Near Magdeburg, East Germany, 02:30 Zulu Time
The driver was getting more nervous every minute. After a visible internal struggle, he made up his mind and decided to talk.
"Comrade Master Sergeant, we've been stuck here for hours and the bridge's still 5 kilometers away. We'll never cross it before dawn."
He was a 17 years old boy from Ulan Ude, deep in Eastern Siberia, and he spoke a surprisingly good Russian for someone with Mongol parents. The miracles of Socialist centralized education, Master Sergeant Flyorov thought.
Flyorov tried to remember the boy's name, but his mind was blank; too many new recruits arrived in the unit during the last month to remember them all.
To gain time, he leaned out the truck window and glanced ahead. The endless line of Ural and GAZ-66 supply trucks cluttered the road, visible only by the dimmed war lights.
Borte. The boy's name was Borte. He turned to the driver, trying to look confident.
"Don't worry Borte, most of this mess had been caused by the two antiaircraft regiments that passed one hour ago, I presume they had priority 'cause they want them in place before dawn. But now they're out of the road, we will move soon."
The boy thought about his superior's words for a couple of minutes, then turned to Flyorov, the eyes of a deer surrounded by a pack of wolves. "Comrade Sergeant, do you think they are going to attack us with airplanes? There's a lot of ammunition and fuel here, and all this stuff is important for our army, I mean, our Generals will not allow the Westerners to destroy everything, am I right, Comrade Sergeant?"
Flyorov struggled to stay professional. The last thing he needed was a panicked boy.
"Soldier, have you counted how many antiaircraft vehicles passed by? Dozens. And they are all going to defend the Elbe bridges. Any aircraft moving closer than 10 kilometers will go down in flame in a second. Nobody is going to attack the bridges or our trucks, unless he's drunk and wants a very short life."
Borte seemed to ponder again on the new information received and apparently calmed down.
They spent the following hours in silence, waiting for the column to move. Once in a while, Flyorov furtively peeked outside, always fearing to see the sky suddenly burning with the lights of antiaircraft fire tracers.
The boy thought about his superior's words for a couple of minutes, then turned to Flyorov, the eyes of a deer surrounded by a pack of wolves. "Comrade Sergeant, do you think they are going to attack us with airplanes? There's a lot of ammunition and fuel here, and all this stuff is important for our army, I mean, our Generals will not allow the Westerners to destroy everything, am I right, Comrade Sergeant?"
Flyorov struggled to stay professional. The last thing he needed was a panicked boy.
"Soldier, have you counted how many antiaircraft vehicles passed by? Dozens. And they are all going to defend the Elbe bridges. Any aircraft moving closer than 10 kilometers will go down in flame in a second. Nobody is going to attack the bridges or our trucks, unless he's drunk and wants a very short life."
Borte seemed to ponder again on the new information received and apparently calmed down.
They spent the following hours in silence, waiting for the column to move. Once in a while, Flyorov furtively peeked outside, always fearing to see the sky suddenly burning with the lights of antiaircraft fire tracers.
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