Red Shadow by Paul Dowswell

training, then join a fighting unit, you can at least feel like you are making a difference.’
     
    They left the dacha in the late afternoon and returned to Moscow. After they had said goodbye to the others at Bryansk Station, Misha and Valya walked back to the Kremlin in silence. When Misha got to his apartment, the door was unlocked, which meant Papa must be home. Something must have happened.
    He was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of vodka. He turned and beamed, and sank his drink in a single gulp. ‘Misha! Great news! Elena has escaped from Odessa. I don’t know what has happened to Andrey, but she is heading east by train. There was a postcard waiting when I got back from work.’
    ‘Where is she going, Papa?’ asked Misha.
    ‘I don’t know. At least she is out of immediate danger for now.’
    ‘I wonder what will happen to Viktor?’ asked Misha.
    ‘I think Viktor will join the partisans. He used to tell me he thought the treaty with the Nazis would never last, and said that’s what he would do. I hope he gets away before the Nazis arrive. I have read reports saying they have been shooting Party members on sight. Right there on the roadside if they find them carrying their Party cards.’
    Then he looked his son straight in the eye. ‘Misha, if the war continues like this, they’ll be here before the end of the summer.’
    After that, Yegor disappeared for another week. Misha did not see a sign of him, not even around the Kremlin grounds, and after a few days he began to worry about what had happened. He went to the Golovkins’ apartment and asked Valya if she’d seen much of her father.
    ‘He’s been at work every day, sometimes only home for a few hours. I will ask him about your father,’ she said.
    She came round a couple of hours later. ‘Misha, your papa is all right, I think. My papa says he is with Comrade Stalin in the dacha at Kuntsevo. The Kremlin staff haven’t been able to speak to the Vozhd for several days. He isn’t taking calls and your papa is the one who has to tell everyone this.’
    She stayed for a coffee.
    ‘Have you heard more about your enlistment?’ asked Misha.
    Valya looked irritated and Misha wondered if he should not have asked.
    ‘They won’t have me. I got a letter this morning. I am to join the military air force and train to be a pilot.’
    ‘Why are you so glum, Valya? You love flying.’
    ‘I want to do something now, Misha. This waiting around while the Nazis are destroying our country . . . I can’t bear it. I’ll have to wait a few months before they decide on a posting, then there’ll be further training, then who knows? I’ll probably have to fly the mail around in Omsk or Novosibirsk. Or deliver fighters or bombers to the pilots who are actually going to fly them against the Hitlerites.’
    ‘You must be patient,’ said Misha.
    She got up and cuffed him around the ear. ‘If that’s the best you can do, I’m going.’
    ‘Valya, I’m glad you’re not going to fight with the partisans. I don’t think I’d ever see you again if you did that.’
    She looked at him.
    ‘Little Misha. There are a lot of people neither of us is going to see again by the time this is over.’
     
    Misha spent his evenings at his air-raid post on top of the Hotel Metropole. He was on a rota with other Young Pioneers and Komsomol recruits and sometimes he worked all night. When this happened, he was grateful there was no school; he would sleep until two or three in the afternoon. Then one day, just after an evening duty, he heard the door. Papa had come home.
    Yegor looked grey with exhaustion but he managed a smile. ‘Come and sit with me. I will tell you good news.’
    Misha eagerly sat down at the dining table. ‘The Vozhd is back,’ said Yegor. ‘I have been with him for a week at Kuntsevo. He seemed to be in a stupor. I was told to tell everyone who rang that he was unavailable. No phone calls, no visitors. I’ve had half the Politburo screaming at me. And