half the Red Army generals. I was in despair. This is no way to run a country at war. Yesterday Mikoyan, Beria, Molotov, they all came down. I could tell Comrade Stalin thought they were going to have him arrested, but they begged him to come back. I was there, standing in the corner, wishing I was invisible. But he’s back now. Things are going to change. I think everything is going to be all right.’
Chapter 14
Late July 1941
Posters of a severe young woman in a red headscarf, index finger to her stern, tight lips, had appeared all over Moscow. Don’t chatter , it said in large angry letters, and Be alert. In days like these, the walls have ears. It’s a small step from gossip to treason.
Misha squirmed whenever he saw that poster. He and Valya gossiped all the time, and his papa often told him things he knew he shouldn’t be hearing. But how else were you supposed to find out what was really going on?
It seemed strange carrying on with normal life when terrible things were happening. Misha kept thinking of those thousands of planes, destroyed on the runways before they’d even taken to the sky. Like squashed flies on a windscreen. How could their forces have been so unprepared? How could they possibly drive away the Hitlerites when so much had already been destroyed? Papa had said little about the course of the war recently, and had swiftly scolded Misha when he’d asked. Perhaps Yegor felt he had said too much all ready? So Misha just did what everyone else did – listened to the radio to hear where the Red Army was fighting its latest ‘heroic defensive actions’.
There was always school work to be done, even in the holidays, and Misha was determined to carry on with it. The German bombers had come a month after the war began, and air-raid sirens went off almost every night now, any time from dusk to dawn. It made everyone exhausted and bad-tempered from lack of sleep. It was even difficult to sleep during the day as the Kremlin grounds were full of carpenters putting up fake wooden buildings to try to disguise this most desirable of targets. When Misha wasn’t on duty with the air-defence cadres, he would see how much work he could get done before the sirens went and they had to hurry to the air-raid shelter.
As he tried to settle to his homework one evening, Misha heard a determined knock at the door. He thought it might be Valya but when he swung back the heavy wooden door the Vozhd ’s daughter Svetlana was standing there. He had not seen her since the very first days of the war, and he had heard she had been sent away from Moscow, to protect her from the danger of bombing. Misha had met Svetlana several times before and had always been very wary of her. He’d heard the children of other Kremlin families whispering that she was a spoiled, capricious child.
‘You’re back,’ he blurted out. She looked different. A bit more grown-up now, more of a young woman. It was barely a couple of months since he had noticed her ‘housekeeper’ message to Stalin. He couldn’t imagine her writing like that any more. She looked distracted too. The usual glint of mischief had vanished from her eyes.
‘Comrade Petrov,’ she said in a quiet voice, ‘I have come to ask for your help.’
Misha was astonished. She had never addressed him in this way before. Or with such respect. ‘Call me Misha,’ he said. ‘Everyone else does. How can I help you?’
She lowered her head. ‘Please may I come in?’ she asked. This was unprecedented. When she had seen him before, she had burst in through the door demanding his assistance.
‘Of course, come and sit at the table. Shall I make you a cup of tea?’
She sat down and placed her heavy bag on the table. Misha called out to his father. ‘Svetlana is here to pay us a visit.’
Yegor came in and immediately began to make a fuss of her. She explained that she had returned from Sochi, on the Black Sea, to spend a few days in Moscow before they decided where
Chapter 14
Late July 1941
Posters of a severe young woman in a red headscarf, index finger to her stern, tight lips, had appeared all over Moscow. Don’t chatter , it said in large angry letters, and Be alert. In days like these, the walls have ears. It’s a small step from gossip to treason.
Misha squirmed whenever he saw that poster. He and Valya gossiped all the time, and his papa often told him things he knew he shouldn’t be hearing. But how else were you supposed to find out what was really going on?
It seemed strange carrying on with normal life when terrible things were happening. Misha kept thinking of those thousands of planes, destroyed on the runways before they’d even taken to the sky. Like squashed flies on a windscreen. How could their forces have been so unprepared? How could they possibly drive away the Hitlerites when so much had already been destroyed? Papa had said little about the course of the war recently, and had swiftly scolded Misha when he’d asked. Perhaps Yegor felt he had said too much all ready? So Misha just did what everyone else did – listened to the radio to hear where the Red Army was fighting its latest ‘heroic defensive actions’.
There was always school work to be done, even in the holidays, and Misha was determined to carry on with it. The German bombers had come a month after the war began, and air-raid sirens went off almost every night now, any time from dusk to dawn. It made everyone exhausted and bad-tempered from lack of sleep. It was even difficult to sleep during the day as the Kremlin grounds were full of carpenters putting up fake wooden buildings to try to disguise this most desirable of targets. When Misha wasn’t on duty with the air-defence cadres, he would see how much work he could get done before the sirens went and they had to hurry to the air-raid shelter.
As he tried to settle to his homework one evening, Misha heard a determined knock at the door. He thought it might be Valya but when he swung back the heavy wooden door the Vozhd ’s daughter Svetlana was standing there. He had not seen her since the very first days of the war, and he had heard she had been sent away from Moscow, to protect her from the danger of bombing. Misha had met Svetlana several times before and had always been very wary of her. He’d heard the children of other Kremlin families whispering that she was a spoiled, capricious child.
‘You’re back,’ he blurted out. She looked different. A bit more grown-up now, more of a young woman. It was barely a couple of months since he had noticed her ‘housekeeper’ message to Stalin. He couldn’t imagine her writing like that any more. She looked distracted too. The usual glint of mischief had vanished from her eyes.
‘Comrade Petrov,’ she said in a quiet voice, ‘I have come to ask for your help.’
Misha was astonished. She had never addressed him in this way before. Or with such respect. ‘Call me Misha,’ he said. ‘Everyone else does. How can I help you?’
She lowered her head. ‘Please may I come in?’ she asked. This was unprecedented. When she had seen him before, she had burst in through the door demanding his assistance.
‘Of course, come and sit at the table. Shall I make you a cup of tea?’
She sat down and placed her heavy bag on the table. Misha called out to his father. ‘Svetlana is here to pay us a visit.’
Yegor came in and immediately began to make a fuss of her. She explained that she had returned from Sochi, on the Black Sea, to spend a few days in Moscow before they decided where
Similar Books
