Prohibition of Interference. Book 2. Tactical Level

“Is that so?” The Colonel asked incredulously.

“There is no special equipment, Herr Oberst,” the Major's voice sounded confident, “I saw him firing an anti-aircraft gun. There's an open platform, not even a shield, and I was able to see everything in detail. The gunner had no special equipment, and the anti-aircraft gun looked perfectly standard. It's just one person. Yes, he's a genius marksman, but it's not about a device that can be given to every soldier, it's purely about his personal qualities or special abilities. But he's just one, you know? He is the only unique person in the entire Bolshevik army, and one shooter, no matter how good he is, cannot determine the outcome of the war, especially if he is stopped in time.”

“Are you sure about that, Erich? He shoots without seeing the target,” said the Colonel thoughtfully, “How does he do it? Not by ear! Although… If there's no equipment, maybe it's some kind of medication that increases perception by an order of magnitude?”

“Then why is there only one, Heinrich? No, it's not the chemistry. In addition, it is difficult to imagine how strong the drug must be, to amplify hearing and vision in such a way. This Russian has demonstrated his abilities for far too long. If he had been on powerful stimulants all this time, he would have died a long time ago, there are no miracles.”

The Colonel was silent for some time, pondering what he had heard, but Schliemann saw that Richtengden's face gradually smoothed out, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from him and he was told that he no longer needed to carry it.

“I'm sure I can find him and close the problem for Germany once and for all,” Schliemann's face was grim with determination.

“Is this revenge, Erich?” Richtengden grinned, “It seems that this Russian was able to get under your skin.”

“He is only a savage, Heinrich, but a dangerous savage, and he must be stopped before he kills hundreds of our soldiers.”

“Well, well…” said the Colonel indefinitely, “Get well, Erich. You gave me some very important information, and I'm sure it will be highly appreciated on the top. I think your personal participation in the hunt for the Russian shooter will be approved. In any case, I'll keep you informed.”

* * *

My rank was confirmed for me. In the Personnel Department I received a new Identity Book and a referral to the 300th Infantry Division, to be exact, to its separate reconnaissance company, which surprised me somewhat, but when I saw the name of my new commander in the document, I only grinned. Captain Shcheglov, it seems, got his way, and I must confess, I was only happy about it.

Sergeant Pluzhnikov was taken to the rear. I managed to visit him in the field hospital, and he said that the shrapnel had caught something serious, and he would be back in action in three months at best. But Chezhin and Sharkov went to their new duty station with me, and there was obviously someone's unobtrusive interference.

They took the Panzerbüchse away from me almost immediately, despite all my insistence, but I still had the Walther stashed away and would not give it away. But now I, as the future commander of the reconnaissance platoon, was given a Shpagin submachine gun and a Nagant revolver. These weapons were extremely difficult to aim, but both the PPSh and the revolver were good for close combat.

“Well, hello, Nagulin,” Shcheglov replied to my report with a satisfied smile, “I didn't expect to see you so soon. Honestly, I'm glad to see you like one of my own. Of my men with whom I started the war, only Ignatov and Nikiforov remained. How did you get into scouting? I thought you were going to the air defense, but that's how it turned out.”

“It's hard to say, Comrade Captain. I thought it was you who wrote a report asking me to be assigned to you…”

“Who needs my report, Nagulin?” grinned Shcheglov, “I don't think anyone would listen to me.”

“My men from the anti-tank rifle crew were sent to you with me.”

“Chezhin and Sharkov?” The Captain nodded, “Good fighters. They're not scouts, of course, but they've been through so much that we can coach them quickly. They took away your German gun?”

“They said it wasn't allowed.”

“It's a pity. It was a good thing… Though why would a scout need it?”

“I'd find a use for it.”

“I don't doubt it. You, Nagulin, can find a job for a sea mine in reconnaissance, too, if you're given one.”

I smiled. Shcheglov looked tired, but collected and businesslike. It was clear that command was pushing his company very hard, but the Captain was not giving up.

“You'll take the second platoon,” my new commander has moved on, “Ignatov is in command there for now, but it's not a sergeant's position, although he knows the service.”

“Copy that!”

“I'll give you until tonight to get up to speed, and then I'll make all the demands. We don't have time to chill here. Command shakes us all the time and demands information about the enemy. The Germans occupied Kremenchuk, seized a bridgehead on our bank of the Dnieper and are ferrying infantry units to it. Our troops tried to hold on to the big islands, of which there are plenty, but the Germans quickly drove us out of there. We can't throw them into the river – we don't have enough forces, so all we can do is hold the Germans back. An order came from the army headquarters to the division. They need prisoners to find out what is going on in the bridgehead and to uncover German plans. How the hell did they get so hot over there, if the Army Headquarters is giving out such orders? It's not their level. I would have understood if Regimental Headquarters had sent such an order…”

“The weather is bad,” I shrugged, “it's raining a lot and it's cloudy. The aviation does not fly, so there is no information, and the high headquarters are afraid, that the Germans will strike from here to the north, to the rear of the South-Western Front.”

“How do you know this, Nagulin? Or does the front commander himself report the situation to you?”

“I don't know, Comrade Captain. I'm just guessing, based on what you told me.”

“That's it, Junior Lieutenant, you're free. Go settle in and take over Ignatov's platoon, and I still have to get the group ready for the evening to go out for a prisoner who will talk. There aren't even a dozen experienced scouts in the company. The rest are ordinary infantry. I can't send them on such a mission.”

“Permission for me to go with the group, Comrade Captain?”

“You'll have this opportunity more than once, Nagulin, don't fuss.”

“The Germans are up to something, I can feel it. Then it may be too late.”

“So you feel…” said Shcheglov thoughtfully, sinking down on a rough stool, “You used to say 'I hear' or 'I see,' and I believed you. Or rather, I didn't believe it right away, but then I didn't doubt it anymore. And now you say 'I feel,' and again I want to brush off those 'feelings' of yours. But Captain Shcheglov does not keep making the same mistakes. Okay, you're in the group. I'll take you myself – you're not familiar with the local conditions yet, so I won't trust you with people on the first mission. We meet here at midnight, we leave at one-thirty. Look, Nagulin, you asked for it.”

“Permission to go take the platoon and get ready?”

“Go, Junior Lieutenant, though, wait a minute. You know who I met this morning at the First Battalion position?”

I waited silently for the continuation, looking at the Captain with interest.

“Sergeant Major Serova. She even asked me where to find the battalion commander. Lipovich assigned her as a sniper in the third company. Today is just a meeting day, don't you think?”

* * *

The weather favored us. Low cloud cover obscured the moon, and the rustle of drizzling rain concealed the sounds. Even the flares weren't much help to the enemy – their light was lost in the rain. It was wet, dirty, but at least not too cold. It would be an exaggeration to call the German defense line discontinuous, but there were gaps between the trenches and strongholds. The enemy gradually expanded the Kremenchuk bridgehead, and the Germans did not always have time to equip full-fledged positions. It would be great to hit them now with a couple of tank divisions supported by heavy artillery, but where to get them? The Southwestern Front has almost no reserves, and the forces allocated by the General Headquarters are spent on flank counterstrikes against the advancing Guderian tanks.

“There's the enemy's machine-gun position ahead – 130 meters forward and 15 meters to the left,” I reported to Sheglov, who had long ceased to be surprised by such revelations on my part, “It's better to go around it on the left. On the right there's a continuous line of trenches, and the Germans do not sleep there.”

“Got it,” the Captain nodded, changing direction, and we crawled forward, crouching to the ground in the flashes of flares flying into the sky.

There was regular rumbling all around – the Germans were delivering disturbing fire at the positions of the 300th Infantry Division. Our troops tried to respond, but they were clearly saving shells.

Since the order to seize a prisoner for interrogation came directly from the headquarters of the 38th Army, the division commander gave Captain Shcheglov a corresponding task. The top brass didn't want just anyone. Ordinary soldiers or noncommissioned officers can not know much, although one can argue with this – exceptions occur, but the probability of coming across such a knowledgeable lower-ranking person is still not too high. So we were ordered to take an officer, and that made it very difficult. The bridgehead is not the Germans' deep rear on the western bank of the Dnieper. Officers don't walk around here alone, and we still have to find them in the middle of the night in pitch black when we have to stick our faces in the dirt after every flash of a flare.

In fact, there was almost certainly no point in capturing some ordinary infantry lieutenant, either, and I told Shcheglov about this at once. The Captain grimaced, realizing that I was offering him a raid deep into the German bridgehead, but in the end he agreed. I needed to do this for two purposes. First, I wanted to be on the bank of the Dnieper to be able to tell the Captain that I had heard and seen signs of preparations for the delivery of heavy equipment to the bridgehead, and second, I needed a successful operation in order to gain a certain credibility in the eyes of division commander Kuznetsov, otherwise he simply would not listen to me.

The gap in German positions was explained quite simply. They were cut in two by a ravine overgrown with bushes, with a stream running along the bottom, which was turbid from the mud that flowed down the slopes. This waterlogged place was completely unsuitable for combat operations, and the Germans limited themselves to setting up a dozen and a half mines in the most passable places.

The computer highlighted these German surprises to me in an alarming orange color, but Shcheglov was not born yesterday either and knew very well, what one could run into in such places.

“Remizov, move forward,” the Captain ordered quietly.

The sapper moved slowly deep into the ravine, checking the ground in front of him with a special probing rod, while I was careful to make sure that he would not miss the deadly gift from the Germans in the dark and slippery mud. The Captain looked concentrated, but I didn't feel too much tension in him. Apparently, the commander was confident in his subordinate's qualifications. In any case, Remizov was up to the task. He did not touch the mines he found, but only raised his hand each time and carefully crawled around the dangerous spot. The group followed in his wake.

There were five of us on the raid. Besides me, Remizov and the Captain, Sergeant Ignatov and Pfc Nikiforov, who were very familiar to me, were with us. The only person new to me in the group was the sapper.