Author’s Notes: The nickname of ‘Hares and Bears’ is true, but originally the words were used to describe the men and women of Zaitsev’s sniping school in Stalingrad – ‘hares’ were small, agile soldiers, able to scurry and hide in the rubble without making a noise, while ‘bears’ were the bigger soldiers who had to be taught to be more adept at the ‘cat and mouse’ of sniping in the bombed-out city. I have used a little literary license and adapted the nicknames to fit the story.
It is also true that women fought alongside men in the Soviet Army.
WARNING: There are some anti-Semitic viewpoints in this chapter – in no way do they reflect my personal view, but if you are offended by this in any way, please understand that at that time this was common in Soviet Russia, and had been for centuries.
*********************
Over the next few days the battle raged through the city, and on November 19th Zhukov finally began his attack on Stalingrad, attempting to enclose the Germans in the city like sturgeon in a net. Away to the north-west, Russian tanks advanced through the mist against the ill-equipped Romanian infantry near Kletskaya, and the Katyusha batteries, shooting blind, decimated the Romanian second line and artillery.
Slowly but surely, the enemy fighting every inch of the way, the inexorable advance of the Russian armies pressed the Germans back up against the deadly might of Chuikov’s 62nd Army, now holding firmly on to the banks and part of the city of Stalingrad. Completely surrounded, the Germans dug in.
For Rivka and Nikolai, life settled into what could almost be termed routine. He rested and healed, and Rivka went about her chores as though the war wasn’t happening, although the thuds and booms of artillery fire and bombing still shook the foundations of the building sometimes. Occasionally, young Vassili Zaitsev slept on Nikolai’s old mattress next to the brazier, and Nikolai lay warm and content with Rivka in his arms at night, her head tucked into his shoulder and her hair spread in a raven pool on his bare chest, something which he adored. Her hand lay possessively on his belly, and if he moved he would feel her arm tighten around him as she slept.
He insisted that Rivka remove the stitches in his side the day after they moved back into the cellar, Rivka concerned that he would start the bleeding again as soon as he exerted himself, but he kissed the doubt out of her and promised he would try and take it easy.
With Rivka’s home now well within Russian lines, life was nevertheless highly dangerous. As soon as he was able, Nikolai hunted around and found some heavy steel hinges and re-hung the damaged door, reinforcing it with sturdy bolts so when he wasn’t there, Rivka felt at least reasonably safe.
Ten days later he was back at Army Headquarters. He was passed fit for duty, and Danilov, now sporting a sling after a bullet tore through his right arm, welcomed him cheerily and immediately declared that the Major needed a new rifle. It arrived twenty-four hours later, and Nikolai collected the weapon, frowning at its newness. The action was a little stiff and the stock a fraction short, but he reckoned he could probably mould it into a reasonable weapon given a few years. He went home that evening to uproar.
Rivka was spitting mad.
"You … you … dumkop!! What the hell do you think you’re doing?? Do you want to get yourself killed??? Crazy idiot! Your side’s barely healed, and you’re going to crawl around in those old buildings, getting yourself shot at – what were you thinking of??"
Nikolai raised a bemused eyebrow at Rivka, now standing with hands on hips, fire in her brown eyes and anger oozing from every pore.
"Now then, Rivka - "
"Don’t you ‘Now then, Rivka’ me, you big dolt! Look at you! One trip down to see that klotz Danilov and you’re exhausted!! Don’t you even think about denying it!!"
Nikolai frowned. He had to admit Rivka was right. His side hurt like hell. But he was glad to be doing something, glad to be active again.
"Rivka, listen to me – I can’t stay at home forever. I’m a soldier, woman. That’s what I do, and you know I have to go back and do my job."
As he said it, he saw her finally acknowledge what she had known could happen
right from the start – that he could leave one morning and never come back,
and she would probably never know what had happened to him or how he met his
end. He saw the fear swamp the anger in her, and her hand covered her mouth
as she tried to hold
back the tears and failed miserably.
"Oh Nikolai … what am I to do?" Her voice broke.
"Now, now, Rivka … don’t you worry about old ‘Papa’ Koulikov – you know I’m a hard nut to crack, and I’m not so easy to kill. Shhh …" As he spoke he gathered her to him and soothed her as the sobs were wrenched from her, even as he gently lifted her in his arms and took her to bed.
Later that night, as they lay sated and spent, Rivka held him tight and buried her face in his shoulder. Nikolai stroked her hair as she wept, and kissed the tears from her face, heart-broken but unable to stop her from crying herself to sleep. For a long time he lay awake, listening to her breathing and savouring every moment he had with his Rivka, knowing this night could well be his last. He teased back a curl of her hair and traced her cheekbone, smiling as she shifted against him in her slumber. He could feel the press of her breasts against his side and the line of her thigh against his, and knew how precious this time with her was.
Sighing, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head, as had become his habit, and whispered a soft and loving ‘Good night."
*******************
He awoke to the smell of warm bread and hot tea.
Rivka had risen an hour before, intent on making sure he had a good breakfast before he went with Vassili into the inferno that was Stalingrad. Once he was up and dressed, she placed a couple of slices of bread and conserve in front of him and a big mug of tea. She touched the soft curls of his head in passing and he smiled up at her, seeing how she was managing to stay calm and practical even when she was scared to death.
When he had finished his food and drained his mug of tea, she helped him on with his jacket and handed him his new forage cap and helmet. Hanging the latter from his belt, he lifted his rifle and turned to look at her.
She lifted a small package wrapped in brown paper and handed it to him along with a battered food can.
"Some bread, my Niko, with a little soup. I won’t have either you or Vassili out there in that snow without a chance of some hot food, d’you hear me?" Nikolai nodded, amused at her care of him. She continued. "Now then, you be careful, love, and I’ll see you tonight." She reached up and raised the collar of his jacket, then patted his chest affectionately. "Keep warm, you’re not all healed up yet. Do you promise me?"
Nikolai leaned down and kissed her.
"Yes Rivka." He was very solemn, but Rivka had to smile through her fear at the amusement in his blue eyes. "I’ll be careful, I promise." He straightened, his mind now on the job of rooting out Germans from the cellars and warrens of the bombed-out centre of the city. "Now, Missus, I’ll be off. Remember to bolt that door behind me, and don’t go for water – I’ll do that when I get home, all right?"
She nodded, knowing he was trying to reassure her that he would be safe.
"Good. I’ll, er … I’ll be going, then. I’ll see you tonight, so I hope you’ll be ready to warm me up after a cold, nasty day fighting Germans." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "I wouldn’t complain if you were in your night-gown, either. I do like to see a woman ready and willing when I get home of an evening!" Nikolai gave Rivka his best grin, and she smiled despite herself.
"Ach, you big fool." Catching his shoulder she turned him towards the door. "Away with you, before I start to cry again. I hate crying, you know that."
She watched as he shut the door behind him, and heard the slam of the trapdoor. Unable to control herself any longer, she sank down on a chair and wept.
********************
The first heavy snows of the winter had arrived, and drifts lay up to two metres deep in places throughout the bombed city.
Nikolai felt a little awkward at first. It had been some time since he had worked his way through rubble, and for once it was Vassili keeping an eye on him instead of the other way around. The young Siberian tried to make sure the big sniper didn’t strain his side, and generally ensured Nikolai didn’t have to do anything too strenuous. But the two soldiers had something else to deal with this frosty, snow-ridden morning – a new ‘spotter’. Her name was Natalya Raskolnikova, and she was a sturdy little brown-eyed blond, her figure buxom under the swathes of warm clothing. She had a suggestive smile and soft voice, but Nikolai thought there was something blatant about her gaze as she looked him over.
They settled down in an abandoned warehouse overlooking the German lines near the Barrikady weapons factory, and Vassili set up his rifle, allowing Nikolai the luxury of relaxing on a pile of old burlap sacks. Natalya checked out the lie of the land with her scope, and finding nothing, leaned back against the wall. She cocked an eye at Nikolai.
"So … you’re Koulikov the Bear, then. I’ve heard of you – they say you can kill a man with your bare hands and not even break into a sweat. I can see why the call you the Bear – you’re certainly big enough." She coupled her words with a suggestive grin.
Nikolai snorted. Dear God, they’d given him a nickname. He saw Vassili give a sly smile.
"The Bear, hey? And what do they call you, boy?"
Vassili grinned in embarrassment.
"The Hare. They call me the Hare. Not my idea, Nikolai – Danilov’s."
Nikolai chuckled.
"Danilov – that boy has a very vivid imagination, so he has. Ah well, I suppose it doesn’t do any harm to have a reputation …"
The three of them sat quietly as Natalya scoped the area once more, and Nikolai realised she had plenty of experience in the field as he saw her double-check low walls and piles of rubble, anywhere a sniper could effectively hide. Finishing her scan of the area, she turned once more to look at Nikolai.
"They also say you have a woman, Comrade Major Koulikov … a Jew, no less. Is that true?"
Vassili looked shocked, but Nikolai took it in his stride. He had her figured out now … she liked to make trouble, this one, and she had a probing mind and a sharp tongue.
"I suggest, Comrade, you attend to your scope – from what I can see there are a couple of Fritz soldiers crawling along behind that wall … "
Cursing, Natalya peered through her scope and confirmed Nikolai’s comment – there were two of them, trying to crawl along behind a wall leading to a command post both Nikolai and Vassili knew lay just behind a nearby building.
"What do you want to do, Nikolai – shoot ‘em now or follow them and see if we can winkle some officers out of the command post?"
Nikolai thought for a moment.
"Might be an idea to follow ‘em – no use shooting those poor bastards. Be more useful to get an officer or two if we can. All right then – let’s relocate …"
Gathering up their gear they slowly moved through the warehouse, Natalya keeping an eye out for the two soldiers and trailing their progress along the ditch behind the wall. Moving from the warehouse, they eased their way cautiously through a shattered railway siding and moved into a machine shop, Natalya hissing that she had spotted the command-post – and that the Germans had dug in beside another of the machine shops across what had been a small entranceway. Behind them lay the sprawl of the Barrikady factory, and to Nikolai’s left was the remains of the railway lines that had brought material to the workshops in better times. The wide-open space meant neither Germans nor Russian snipers could venture out into the open without being mown down, especially as he could see the snub-nosed flash-hiders of a couple of German MG42s poking out beneath a camouflaged tarpaulin.
Nikolai hummed quietly to himself as he settled down beside an old oil drum and set up the new Moisin-Nagant Danilov had acquired for him. The rifle needed sighting-in, and what better way to do it than by knocking off a few Fritz officers?
Easing his sore side against the wall he put barely a couple of centimetres of the barrel through a hole and he set the cross-hairs of his sights on the tarpaulin. To his right Vassili had sprawled on his belly and was settling down for a long wait, knowing Nikolai had the MG42s well-covered. Natalya found herself an empty box to sit on and she occasionally swept her scope over the side of the machine shop opposite. The three Russians were well-versed in the art of patience – the Germans would show themselves sooner or later.
Natalya picked at her teeth lazily and turned curious eyes to Nikolai, the big sniper leaning back against the crumbling wall.
"You didn’t answer my question, Comrade Major. Your woman – she’s a Jew, isn’t she? One of us not good enough for you, hey?"
"Natalya!"
Nikolai heard Vassili’s growl of anger but ignored it, casually peering through his scope and tweaking the focus by a fraction. He sighed in satisfaction as the wall of the machine shop winked into sharp clarity, and only then did he deign to look at Natalya’s leering grin.
"Well, comrade … apart from the fact that you’re not fit to lick her boots, she also has manners – which is more than I can say for you." His voice was deceptively soft.
Natalya Raskolnikova found herself looking into the bluest, coldest pair of eyes she had ever seen. She attempted to return the gaze but failed miserably, unable to control the blush that flamed her cheeks.
Nikolai returned to his rifle and continued to adjust the sights as he heard Vassili’s snort of amusement.
Embarrassed, Natalya spent the next few minutes checking the lie of the land and gathering her wits. She had relied on her quick tongue and bold gaze once too often, and both had failed her badly – Nikolai Koulikov was a challenge, and as she collected herself she thought how interesting it would be to take him from his woman.
Natalya Raskolnikova was enjoying her war. Raised in the slums of Kiev she had lived a life of depravation and hardship until war broke out and she had joined the army. She had sold her body for the first time at thirteen to pay for food, but she discovered that in the army she was fed, clothed and given responsibility – and now she could use her body for pleasurable purposes.
At first she had just slept with a man because she liked him, and then she had enjoyed seducing young untouched soldiers and showing them the way to please a woman. But she had soon tired of that – they were boring and inexperienced, and she needed a greater challenge. So, she had begun to lure men away from wives and lovers, delighting in seeing how long they stayed loyal – and she discarded them as soon as they succumbed to her body.
But this Koulikov … now there was a man to deal with. He was loyal to the woman he lay with at night, Jew or no, and she realised he would be difficult to sway. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he caressed the rifle with long fingers, and shuddered at the thought of being touched by him. He would know how to pleasure her, and the fact he had rebuffed her made him all the more desirable. Returning to her scope, she decided she would bide her time. But all thoughts of seduction were driven from her mind as she saw two peaked caps come into view alongside the machine shop wall.
"Officers." Her voice was low, urgent, mind full now of the job they had been given to do.
"Got ‘em …" Vassili sighted in quickly. "220 metres, Nikolai … can you - "
"Covered." Nikolai moved his rifle imperceptibly so that he was aiming a little higher and to the right of the first of the MG42s – to just where a man would be as he aimed the heavy machine gun. Nikolai knew he was shooting blind, but he also knew that if he didn’t manage to take out the two machine guns the building would be sprayed with .303 bullets – which would easily punch through the thin walls. "When you’re ready, lad …"
Vassili waited until the caps came into clear view. All he had was the caps to aim for – he couldn’t see anything else. They moved carefully along the wall, popping in and out of view, and Vassili settled for the second cap. He found a place further along the wall which was a little more exposed, and waited.
Nikolai heard Vassili’s soft exhale of breath and rested his finger on the trigger, beginning to squeeze, his own breath hissing from between his teeth as he prepared to fire.
For long seconds, all was silent.
"Now."
Nikolai heard Vassili’s softly-issued order and fired.
Natalya heard two shots almost simultaneously, and then a harsh curse from Nikolai, and a third shot. To her right Vassili fired smoothly, his grunt of satisfaction followed by another shot.
Looking through her scope, Natalya saw the tarpaulin jerk as Nikolai’s bullets hit it and heard a soft cry of agony, and Nikolai’s third shot cut it off abruptly. The second officer’s cap erupted in a welter of blood, and before the officer in front could register what was happening, Vassili’s second shot dropped him like a felled ox.
There was silence, accompanied by the reek of cordite. Nikolai’s disgusted voice broke the moment.
"Bloody hell! This piece of shit shoots to the right – I had to take a third shot, dammit!"
Vassili grinned.
"Come on, ‘Papa’ Koulikov – I think it’s time to relocate before some Fritz soldier finds out what we’ve been up to and shoots our arses off!"
Gathering up their gear, they hurried back to the rubble outside the factory and found a place to hole up and wait for an errant German to come their way, but none did. They had a boring afternoon, but that was nothing new. As the sun began to go down, they decided to make their way home.
They clambered through the rubble and wandered down empty corridors of ruined buildings, ever wary even though they were technically behind Soviet lines.
Natalya watched the tall, brawny soldier in front of her as he made his way through the ruins, noticing how he hugged his side with his arm. She also saw the occasional wince as he jarred his healing wounds and ran to keep up with him, walking beside him.
"Comrade Major … I heard about how you and Vassili killed Koenig – it was something else, I can tell you! The whole unit talked about it for days. You were wounded, weren’t you?"
Nikolai grunted in reply. He couldn’t be bothered to answer her – his side was on fire and he was exhausted – and he was also dismayed at how he had struggled to keep up with Vassili. But he put it down to a slow recovery and going back to his work before he was really fit. But he was pleased with his day’s work, although annoyed at himself for needing to take a third shot. He would just have to work the kinks out of the bloody rifle and remember it shot to the right a little.
Natalya continued.
"So … how many Fritz’ have you ki - "
She was interrupted by Vassili’s hissed warning.
"Stukas! Take cover – they’re just passing over I think, but you never can tell with those bloody things."
Vassili disappeared behind a sturdy wall and Nikolai and Natalya found the nearest hole and dropped into it, sheltered by a wrecked Panzer tank.
The dive-bombers droned overhead, and Natalya looked over at Nikolai, the big man intent on watching the Stukas as they patrolled overhead. She knew by experience they could be around for thirty minutes or so as they swept and re-swept the area, and she decided to take her chance.
Snuggling up to Nikolai she studied his face. Not unattractive, once you got used to the metal teeth, strong and intelligent – and those blue eyes were magnificent. His body was big and powerful, and she had no doubt he would be well-endowed. Yes, he would be an interesting conquest, and she could brag to her cronies she had bedded the great Koulikov and stolen him from that Jewish bitch he was screwing.
Nikolai felt a small hand touch his wounded side.
"Does it still hurt?"
He looked down at Natalya, the spotter now pressed against him and she flinched as the Stukas began bombing a sector of the city about half a kilometre away. He shifted away from her, but she followed, her hand insistent.
Nikolai felt her hand stray to his stomach … and then lower.
Natalya was beginning to enjoy herself. She could tell there was a muscular body beneath the layers of clothing, and she felt his body tense as her hand brushed over his groin. Mmmm … yes. He was certainly not lacking, she realised.
But before her touch could intensify, she felt a hand grasp her wrist and a deep voice hissed in her ear.
"If you come near me again, comrade, I’ll tie you up and leave you here for a few Fritz soldiers to find – do you hear me?"
The voice was chill, deadly, frightening in its intent.
But Natalya was no stranger to threats, and her lip curled in derision.
"Oh! So you prefer to lie with that Jew whore of yours? The one whose husband deserted her after a week because she was too frigid to let him near her? Oh yes, Major, we know all about - "
Natalya heard a growl of anger and suddenly found herself being hauled to her feet and pushed none-too-gently against the wall. Blinking in fear she watched as Nikolai towered over her, his hand tight around her wrist and blue eyes aflame with loathing.
"The only whore I know is standing in front of me, comrade Natalya Raskolnikova! Nothing but a sewer-bred whore! I’ve seen some poor specimens of humanity in my time, woman, but you … you take the biscuit!"
Natalya was suddenly very afraid. Not for her life - no, Nikolai Koulikov was not the kind of man to hurt a woman. But what frightened her was the truth he was spouting. Hearing a noise, she saw Vassili slide down the edge of the hole and stand watching Nikolai.
"Vas … Vassili … get him away from me … he’s hurting me …" She thought her words would spur on the young soldier, but she was appalled to see Vassili’s pale eyes become cold.
"No, Natalya. You brought it on yourself. And Nikolai wouldn’t hurt you – it’s not in him to hurt women, and you know it. By the way, Rivka Velonina is one of the finest people I know … and one of the purest. She has the biggest heart I’ve ever known, and she wouldn’t ask any questions if you needed her – she would just take you into her home and make you welcome, no matter where you’re from or what your background is – Rivka doesn’t judge. Think of that, Natalya, next time you try to poison people with that foul mouth of yours."
For long moments all that could be heard was the thuds and roars of the bombing, and then Nikolai straightened, releasing his grip on Natalya’s wrist. He wiped his hand on his pants leg as though trying to remove something filthy.
"Ach, you’re not worth the effort, comrade. Nothing but a piece of shit, that’s all you are." Nikolai turned his calm, frightening gaze on the young woman for the last time. "Oh, and don’t ever speak to me again unless it’s to tell me where I can find a Fritz soldier to shoot, d’you hear me? Never … never … let me hear you mention Rivka Velonina’s name again. Do you understand?"
Natalya nodded.
Without a word more, Nikolai turned and hauled himself out of the hole, followed by a glowering Vassili Zaitsev. The bombing had dwindled into the distance, so the two soldiers struck out for home, and never once looked back to see if Natalya Raskolnikova was following.
**********************
Rivka heard the trap door slam shut and sobbed with relief.
It had been one of the longest and most difficult days of her life. She had washed clothes, scrubbed the floor and made herself useful, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread that had overwhelmed her for the whole of the day.
But Nikolai had come home. There he was, his big frame shutting the door behind him, rifle slung over one shoulder and fit and well.
Rivka composed herself and turned to welcome him, her arms gathering him to her and holding him close. He seemed all right, although he was obviously very tired, and she helped him off with his jacket.
"Your supper’s ready – are you hungry?"
Nikolai leaned down and kissed her.
"Always, woman – you know that!"
Nikolai Koulikov couldn’t believe how good it was to be home. Warmth greeted him along with Rivka’s hug, and the smell of hot food made his stomach rumble. She sat him down and placed a plateful of bacon and potatoes in front of him along with his customary mug of tea, and sat down beside him with her own supper.
"How was it?"
Nikolai regarded her question. She wanted to know, but she didn’t need to hear about either shooting Germans or Natalya’s stupidity.
He grinned at her.
"Bloody rifle shoots to the right. Nearly spoiled my aim, so it did."
Rivka smiled at his gentle humour, and was glad. The first day was over, and he had survived. That was all that mattered.
"Oh, by the way – I brought you something." Nikolai lifted his bag that normally carried his spare ammunition clips and the Luger and delved into its depths, hauling out several big plates. "I found these – I thought they might be useful, seeing as those bloody Germans smashed your other ones."
Rivka gasped with delight. There were four big china plates, Meissen by the look of them, and they were perfect – not a chip in any of them. Only a couple of her own plates had survived, and she used them for everything from proving bread to serving dinner.
"Oh, Niko, they’re beautiful! Where did you find them? Are there any more? They’re just what I needed, love …"
Nikolai grinned in amusement at Rivka’s astonishment, and listened to her babble on about the plates as though they were solid gold. He couldn’t believe how pleased she was at such a little gift, and he felt a warm glow inside at the thought of giving her so much pleasure.
"A house not far from here – they were sitting on a dresser, completely untouched. The house is a mess, but there are a few more bits and pieces there if you want ‘em. I can bring ‘em home tomorrow, if you like." Nikolai didn’t add that he had found the bloated corpses of the occupants almost completely covered by rubble. But before he could say any more, Rivka leaned over and cradling his face in both of her hands she kissed him deeply.
"What was that for, woman?"
Rivka smiled at him, a light shining in her eyes that set his soul on fire.
"Because, Major Nikolai Koulikov, you are a dear, sweet man and I don’t deserve you one little bit."
Nikolai grinned.
"Well, if that’s the reaction I get for bringing you a couple of old plates, I’ll bring you the whole bloody dresser next time!"
Rivka’s eyebrows arched suggestively.
"Hmm. I suppose I could find a place for it. And what manner of payment would you require, Major?"
Nikolai caught her up in his arms and pulled her off her chair and into his lap, nuzzling at her neck.
"Just you, my lady … that’s all I want. Just you …"
Holding her to him, he stood and carried her to the bed, and soon the room was filled with soft sighs and cries of pleasure as the food lay untouched on the table and Nikolai Koulikov and Rivka Velonina partook of each other’s bodies instead.
*********************
For the next three days Rivka coped with Nikolai going out in the morning into the depths of the ruined city, and waiting all day for his return. Every time he returned he brought her something … china plates, cooking utensils, a couple of quilts for their bed. He even had his eye on a big, over-stuffed chair he had glimpsed in a burnt-out shop that turned out to be an antique store, but he didn’t know whether Rivka would mind if he brought it home. He decided to think about it for a bit, and then ask her. Vassili would give him a hand to carry it, he was sure.
Truth be told, he was secretly enjoying his scavenging. He had never had a home of his own, and he loved digging through the ruins and finding little useful oddments he knew Rivka needed, and sometimes he would bring home something he wanted for himself – a luxury he had never allowed for himself before, and he was delighted when he found an old meerschaum pipe. Not that he had any tobacco, but he thought it would sit on the mantelpiece and wait until he did.
But three days was as long as Rivka could take of the tension. It was killing her – the waiting was soul-destroying and nerve-wracking, so she decided to do something about it.
On the morning of the fourth day, she waited until Nikolai left, put on her coat and shoes, and shutting and locking the trap-door behind her, headed off down the ruined street to the shores of the Volga river, slogging through snowy ruins and wincing at the distant booms of bombing and artillery fire.
Fifteen minutes later, she spotted the place that she was looking for.
*********************
"Why?"
"I’m sorry?" Rivka looked up at the man in front of her, pacing slowly up and down in his small office.
"Why are you volunteering?"
Doctor Oleg Chernyenko looked down at this lean, angular woman sitting in his
only chair, her back ramrod straight and her brown eyes determined. He was one
of the few doctors staffing the field hospital set up in a warren of rooms down
by the wharf, situated in what had been a small furniture-trading company before
the war. 
He was a young man in his early thirties, but already his short hair was turning prematurely grey. Rivka liked the dark brown eyes that had life and humour deep in their depths, and he had a soft voice that suited his Georgian accent.
"I need to do something – I need to be busy. I have a little experience, and I thought you could use some help." Rivka tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. She hoped desperately he would agree, as she didn’t know what she would do if he refused. She needed to take her mind off Nikolai’s dangerous, deadly job.
Oleg looked at her. She seemed capable and sensible, something far more precious sometimes that skill – sometimes common sense kept a patient alive more than any medical treatment he could give, and she looked as though she would treat the terribly wounded men he cared for with care and humanity – and for Oleg Chernyenko that meant a great deal. He also thought the extra rations she would get wouldn’t come amiss.
"All right. I could certainly use the help. But I’ll warn you now – you’ll see many things that aren’t pretty, Mrs Velonina, and I have no time for sentimentality here. There will be times when I have to make a decision about whether to treat a patient or not. War is hard, and I don’t have the staff, the equipment or the medicine to treat everybody. Sometimes … sometimes I just have to let them die. You understand?"
Rivka swallowed, then nodded. She knew all too well what war did to people, and accepted it without question.
"Good." Oleg smiled down at her, his tired face lighting up as he saw the enthusiasm in her face. He liked her instinctively, and knew she would be a hard, dedicated worker. "Right – when can you start?"
Rivka stood up, her chin tilted in determination.
"How about right now?"
Oleg’s gentle smile turned into a grin. Yes, she would do very well, he thought.
"Very well, Mrs Velonina – follow me, and I’ll see if I can get you an overall."
Rivka smiled in relief, then touched Oleg on the arm.
"My name’s Rivka, Doctor. Just Rivka. Mrs Velonina is far too much of a mouthful, don’t you think?"
Oleg snorted in amusement.
"All right, Rivka – I think it’s about time I put you to work. Come with me."
And with that Oleg led Rivka out into the place where she could finally put her skills to use, and keep her occupied while Nikolai Koulikov risked his life in the belly of the ruined city of Stalingrad.
**********************