Portartur. 1940. Boris Trofimov

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Portartur. 1940 - Boris Trofimov


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then Samson, with its spurs, as ticks, covers our fortifications. Additional trenches are needed, so even with visors from shrapnel bullets.

      – Every extra hundred sazhen trenches will require new shooters, and they are needed to repulse the flank movements.

      – I will not give extra soldiers, because I consider it harmful.

      – Our arrows are not fired, most of them are recruits and spare… We will scatter them twenty steps apart, and they will feel lonely, and in difficult times will be beyond the moral influence of the boss.

      “This is an outdated opinion, Colonel,” General Fock objected with fervor. – Do you think the soldiers slaughter?

      – No, you, Your Excellency! But still, with closer contact, each in the hope of comradely support.

      – You can not fill the trenches of people! – screamed Fok.

      General Kondratenko turned and looked at the group of officers, in the middle of which Fock was waving his hands.

      “He always argues,” Kondratenko sighed wearily. – Is it up to disputes now, when things are in the throat, when there should be cohesion, when, the enemy is hanging on the collar? Heavy. Events unfold, and we are like children. However, who is to blame for all unpreparedness, all the confusion?.. And then there is also this Easter egg – Far… Expensive toy, but you have to quit!”

      The general sighed and ran his hand over his forehead. Everyone saw that he was very tired. Detour positions, conversations, dissatisfaction with the erected fortifications, passive actions of the northern army upset him.

      “Unclear! – mentally exclaimed Kondratenko, – No movement from the north. It means that they have still greater immobility and unpreparedness.”

      The general took a sheet of paper from a side pocket and made some notes.

      “Why brew porridge? – he thought. – Why hammer millions on Far Far? Why was the entire fleet pushed into the Port Arthur puddle? Would sit in Vladivostok, and here left small barriers”. Kondratenko shook his head, shoved Stoessel’s order in which he made notes, and approached General Fok.

      – It is necessary to distinguish cowardice from feelings of self-preservation, feelings inherent in every living organism, – Fock was excited. “Without this feeling, all living things would die, but the extreme is harmful in everything, so nature, as opposed to it, gave people a feeling of love, and society developed a concept of duty. The so-called brave does not notice this, and, having escaped from the misfortune, into which he climbed without reasoning, he acquired the nickname of the desperate. All cowards should be divided into two categories. Underwear, minority underpowers lose their ability to think; they cannot give an account of their own actions. Some individuals of this category have an automatism of the primitive man, who, owning only a cudgel, hoped for his feet in case of danger, simply fleeing away. Fortunately, we do not have such. Many of the lower ranks often show strange activity in case of fear that has seized them, for example, they try to stick several cartridges at once into the bolt or begin to take things out of their bag and pack them again. There are even those who, under the influence of danger, as if numb, fall and try to get into the ground, working hard with their knees. – Ek, enough! – Kondratenko frowned. The rest of the listeners looked at each other.

      – But it does not last long. Suddenly, someone shouts: “I was scared.” And laughs. You look, everyone comes to their senses and begin to work in the new environment, and quite calmly and rationally, as before the appearance of danger. I personally succumbed to the same fear as everyone else, but then immediately the thought came – did anyone notice my fear? I look at others, I see – no one noticed. I was usually amazed at the amazing calm and simplicity of all the lower ranks around me. No matter how hard I tried to be calm, I felt that I was far from being calm. Gentlemen officers are more sensitive and do not come to their senses so soon. But between them there are those who make a brilliant exception. Between the lower ranks of such exceptions I have not seen. Maybe this is because of them, no one thinks to stand out. Consequently, one cannot count on any particular moral influence that many officers think of. It’s good if the officer himself comes to time and starts to fulfill the tasks assigned to him by the situation. This should be firmly remembered by gentlemen officers.

      “Inappropriate speeches,” Kondratenko wanted to say, but he resisted. Fok paused and looked around. The officers stood, heads bowed.

      – What do you say on this issue, Roman Isidorovich? – addressed Fock to Kondratenko.

      Kondratenko did not like Fock. He was tired, he wanted to rest and think about the situation.

      “There is no help, no help from the north,” spun in the head of the general. “A huge area, innumerable values are concentrated on a small dusty barren peninsula… What to rant?.. Act, act!”

      “What are you talking about, General?”

      – On the duties of officers, on their moral impact on the soldiers.

      – This was said and said. We need a well-developed and trained soldiers’ masses, dedicated and understanding the honor of the nation. But if one or another military unit flinches and turns to flight, then I will completely blame the officers. You need to love the soldiers entrusted to you, and then in battle we will get exceptional examples of stamina.

      The generals went into the station.

      “We listened to an impressive teaching,” said Dwight ironically. – But the old man is right. In the heat of anger, we must not bear the soldiers. Their mistakes are our mistakes.

      2

      During dinner, Kondratenko looked at Fok for a long time. The slouching figure of an army general was not in harmony with his impetuous, angular movements. The straight and long nose on the haggard old face seemed too thin and transparent. The sideburns and the boring gaze of the deep-seated eyes emphasized the paleness of the skin.

      “I think,” Kondratenko began the conversation, “in addition to the trenches dug in your direction, Alexander Viktorovich, we will instruct the engineer-captain von Schwartz to lower the trenches only on the Eastern front.” As for the other slopes of Nanshan, then we will work on them later. Let’s strengthen the most vulnerable places more reliably.

      – And how, loopholes and visors along the edges of the trenches?

      – Colonel Tretyakov seems to be against the loopholes, but they are useful, you are absolutely right.

      – Experience has shown that the visors are fully justified. The Japanese do not know about them yet and they will run. – Fock, with shoulders up, smiled smugly. “But you shouldn’t make them from long boards, otherwise one projectile will cause a lot of damage.”

      “The two tiers of the trenches are very good, but you need to have more soldiers,” said Colonel Tretyakov, who entered.

      – The lower tier is good for flat shooting, but for firing ravines should keep the shooters at the Verkov position. The case will show itself, Roman Isidorovich, “Fock continued, referring only to Kondratenko. – Neither you nor I would like to keep the trenches empty during the battle. But, I repeat, I am against cohesion in the trenches when they are pelted with cores and showered with shrapnel.

      The generals fell silent. The cheeks of the youthful face of Kondratenko dropped. He had thoughtful, round eyes. Thick mustache and wedge made the face of Roman Isidorovich dry and stern. – Loafers! – swore, wry smile, Fock.

      “What are you talking about, Your Excellency?”

      – Yes,


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