The trench is shallow, dry and dusty – hastily dug out overnight in the thaw that has just thawed from winter frosts, but already well dried. In order not to protrude, Voloshin stood bent over, with his high growth, it was tedious. Changing the pose, he knocked a bundle of earth from the parapet, painfully struck Jim sitting next to him, he heard an offended dog squeal.
The battalion commander carefully examined the slopes of the altitude. The Germans settled on it at full speed. Voloshin thought with regret that they had made a mistake on the eve, without attacking this altitude from the distance. Then there were still some chances to capture it, but the artillery failed – there were no shells. The regiment commander did not seem to notice this altitude. Still, it should be taken, but this battered battalion can not do it. Taking up the height, the Germans, not paying attention to the machine-gun fire, were fixed in the main: in the evening they brought up logs and equipped dugouts and trenches. Voloshin thought that at night, which is good, they also mined the slopes.
Quickly darkened and colder. The battalion commander left Prygu-nova as an observer, and himself went down into the dugout with a cheerfully crackling stove. Voloshin reached for the fire, experiencing an unusual bliss. An elderly and slow-moving telephone operator Chernoruchenko, pinching a telephone receiver between his shoulder and ear, pushed a brush into the stove and smiled. The
Summary “His battalion”
2017-06-20