“They’re all telling the truth,” said Tatiana. “Fried potatoes with onions are not easy to hide.”
The Metanovs ate bread with butter for dinner that night and complained the whole time. Papa yelled at the girls for losing his dinner. Tatiana kept quiet, heeding Alexander’s warning that she should be careful around people who were likely to hit her.
But after dinner the family wasn’t taking any more chances. Mama and Babushka brought the canned goods, the cereals and the grains, soap and salt and vodka into the rooms, stacking it all in the corners and in the hallway behind the sofa. Mama said, “How fortunate we are that we have the extra door partitioning our corridor from the rest of the scavengers. We’d never keep our food otherwise, I see that now.”
Later that night, when Alexander came by and heard about the potatoes, he told the Metanovs to keep the rear entrance to the kitchen locked.
Dasha introduced Alexander to Marina. They shook hands and both stared at each other for longer than was appropriate. Marina, embarrassed, stepped away, averting her gaze. Alexander smiled, putting his arm around Dasha. “Dasha,” he said, “so this is your cousin Marina.” Tatiana wanted to shake her head at him, while a perplexed Marina remained speechless.
Later on in the kitchen, Marina said to Tatiana, “Tania, why did Dasha’s Alexander look at me as if he knew me?”
“I have no idea.”
“He is adorable.”
“You think so?” said Dasha, who was heading past the girls to the bathroom, leaving Alexander in the corridor. “Well, keep your hands off him,” she added cheerfully. “He’s mine.”
“Don’t you think?” Marina whispered to Tatiana.
“He’s all right,” said Tatiana. “Help me wash this frying pan, will you?”
Adorable Alexander stood in the doorway, smoking and grinning at Tatiana.
Papa continued to grumble about Marina’s arrival. Her student rations would bring little to the family, and another mouth to feed would only drain their resources further. “She just came here to eat my father’s cans of ham,” he said to Mama, gazing at the cans. Tatiana couldn’t tell if Papa wanted to eat the cans or to kiss them. “She is your niece, Papa,” Tatiana whispered, so Marina wouldn’t overhear. “She is your only sister’s only daughter.”
2
The following day, on September 8, there was unrest in the city from early morning. The radio said, “Air raid, air raid!”
At work, Vera grabbed Tatiana’s hand and exclaimed, “Do you hear that noise?”
They walked out the front entrance of the hospital on Ligovsky Prospekt, and Tatiana heard distant heavy thundering that didn’t get closer, just increased in frequency. Calmly, Tatiana said to Vera, “Verochka, it’s just the mortars. They make that sound when they release the bombs.”
“Bombs?”
“Yes. They set this machine in the ground—I don’t know exactly how it works—but it fires big bombs, little bombs, explosive bombs, short-fuse, long-fuse. Fragmentation bombs are the worst,” said Tatiana. “But also they have these little antipersonnel bombs. They fire them a hundred at a time. They’re lethal.”
Vera stared at Tatiana, who shrugged. “Luga. Wish I hadn’t gone. But . . . Listen, can you saw my leg off?”
They went inside. Vera said, “How about if I just remove the cast? I think taking the leg off is a bit drastic.”
It was the first time Tatiana had seen her leg in over six weeks. She wished she had more time to contemplate her peculiar, wilted limb without the cast, but as she was wobbling around, she heard a commotion down the hall at the nurses’ station. All the nurses ran upstairs. Tatiana followed them limply. Her leg hurt when she put weight on it.
On the roof she watched two formations of eight planes each fly above her. Half a city away there was an explosion, followed by fire and black smoke. She thought, it’s really happening. The Germans are bombing Leningrad. I thought I had left it all behind in Luga. I thought what I had seen there was the worst I was ever going to see. At least I was able to leave Luga and come back to peace. Where can I go now?
Tatiana smelled acrid acidity and thought, what is that? “I’m going home,” she said to Vera. “To my family.” But all she could think about was that smell.
By afternoon they knew. The Badayev storage warehouses supplying Leningrad with food had been bombed by the Germans and now lay in flaming ruins. The acrid smell was burning sugar.
“Papa,” asked Tatiana while they were sitting solemnly at the dining table, “what’s going to happen to Leningrad?”
Papa had no answers. “What happened to Pasha, I suspect.”
Mama started to cry. “Don’t talk like that!” she exclaimed. “You’ll scare the children.”
Dasha, Tatiana, and Marina looked at each other.
The bombing continued through late afternoon.
Anton came for Tatiana, and they both went out onto the roof. However odd it was to be walking without a cast, there was nothing odder than the sight of black smoky fragments in the sky over Leningrad.
Alexander was right, she thought, He has been right about everything. Everything that he told me would happen has come to pass. Her heart swelling with respect and affection, she made a mental note to listen to every word he uttered from now on, but then a tic of fear ran through her.
Hadn’t Alexander told her there would be a battle to the death on the city streets?
Dimitri with his gun, Alexander with his grenade, and Tatiana with her rock.
Hadn’t Alexander told her to buy food as if she were never going to see it again? Maybe he was exaggerating for effect, she thought, feeling only slightly relieved. Didn’t he rail at her to get out of the city when he used to come to pick her up at Kirov? As the black smoke hung like a memorial canopy over Leningrad, Tatiana got a feeling of foreboding, a slight, aching darkness as she thought of her family’s future.
Anton stood looking at the sky with expectant eyes. “Tania!” he exclaimed. “Earlier I did it. One fell, an incendiary, and I put it out with this!” He pointed to the stick in his hand, the bottom end of which was attached to a concrete half-circle that looked like a soldier’s helmet.
Jumping up and down and waving his fist to the sky, Anton squealed, “I’m ready for you, come on, come again!”
“Anton,” said Tatiana, laughing, “you’re as crazy as Slavin.”
“Oh, much crazier,” said Anton happily. “He’s not on the roof, is he?”
Tatiana could see fires in the direction of Nevsky, in the direction of the river.
Suddenly Mama stuck her head out the stairwell door, not daring to venture onto the roof herself, and yelled, “Tatiana Georgievna! Are you crazy? Come down this instant!”
“I can’t, Mama, I’m on duty.”
“I said, come! Come this instant.”
“I’m going to come in about an hour, Mamochka. Go on, go downstairs.”
Mama muttered angrily and left, but in ten minutes she returned, this time with Alexander and Dimitri.
Tatiana, standing high on the roof, shook her head. “What are you doing, Mama, bringing reinforcements?”
“Tatiana,” Alexander said, striding out to her, “come downstairs with us.” Dimitri remained near the landing with Mama.
When Tatiana didn’t move, Alexander said, raising his eyebrows, “Immediately, Tania.”
Sighing, she said, “I can’t leave Anton here by himself, can I?”
“I’ll be fine, Tania!” Anton yelled, waving his stick at the sky. “I’m ready for them.”
As he was leaving, Alexander turned to Anton and remarked, “Put the helmet on your head, soldier.”
Downstairs in the room, Dimitri said, “Tania, dear, you really shouldn’t go on the roof during an air raid.”
“Well, there’s not much point going on the roof at other times,” she retorted mildly. “Unless I wanted to get a suntan.” She moved away from him.
“You live in the wrong city for a suntan,”
snapped Alexander. “But honestly, Tania, what are you thinking? Dimitri is right. Your mother is right. Do you want to leave your family without two of their three children? All bombs are not incendiaries; they don’t land harmlessly at your feet like felled pigeons. Have you forgotten Luga? What do you think happens when a bomb explodes in midair? The explosive wave blows apart glass, wood, plastic. Why did we tape all the windows in the city? What do you think would happen to you if that wave hit you?”
“Maybe,” Tatiana said dryly, “we can put a little tape on me, maybe a little palm tree.”
“Stop it with your smart mouth!” said Dasha. “Don’t cause more trouble. I’m not having our brave boys dig you out again.” She squeezed Alexander.
“I really cannot take any credit for that,” said Dimitri, his eyes flaring. “Can I, Alexander?”
“Tania, you know what?” said Mama. “Why don’t you go and start dinner and leave us adults to talk a bit, all right? Marina, go help Tania with dinner.”
Tatiana made potatoes with a little butter, and some beans and carrots on the side. That’s really not enough food for everyone, she thought, and fried up one of Deda’s cans of ham, which no one liked.
“Tania, your parents still don’t like to talk in front of you, do they?” said Marina.
“No, not really.”
“The soldiers are quite protective of you. Especially Alexander,” Marina remarked.
“He is protective of everybody,” stated Tatiana. “Can you go and get me more butter? I don’t think this will be enough.”
Dinner was a somber occasion that evening. Alexander and Dimitri were leaving for the front, and everyone was afraid to mention the unspeakable—Germans in the middle of their city and Alexander and Dimitri leaving for the front. Tatiana knew that, unlike Dimitri, Alexander was not going into front-line battle, but that was small comfort to her, imagining him commanding his artillery company.
Still somehow it was she who managed to ask brightly, “Well, what now?” as everyone was sipping black tea.
Alexander said, “All of you, use the bomb shelter you’ve got downstairs. You’re lucky to have one. Many buildings don’t. Use it every day. And, Dasha, make sure your sister doesn’t go on the roof. Tell her to let the boys take care of the bombs. Do you hear me, Dasha?”
“I hear you, darling.”
Tatiana heard him loud and clear.
“Alexander, was there much food in the burned-down warehouses?” she asked.
Alexander shrugged. “There was sugar, some flour. Perhaps a couple of days’ supply. It’s not the Badayev warehouses we have to worry about. It’s the Germans surrounding the city.”
Dasha said, “Oh, Alexander, I can’t believe they’re here, in Leningrad! All summer they seemed so far away.”
“Now they’re here. The circle around Leningrad is nearly complete.”
“Hardly a circle,” muttered Tatiana.
“Who the hell are you to argue with an army lieutenant!” yelled her intoxicated father.
Alexander lifted his hand and said calmly, “Your father is right, Tania. Don’t argue with me. Even if you are right.”
Tatiana kept herself from smiling.
Alexander continued, also not smiling, “Unfortunately, the Germans have geography on their side. We have too much water all around the city.” Then he smiled. “I’ll rephrase that. With the gulf, Lake Ladoga, the river Neva, and the Finns up north, the circle around Leningrad is nearly complete.” Looking at Tatiana, he asked, “How is that? Is that better?”
She muttered unintelligibly and accidentally caught Marina’s eye.
Dimitri sat closer to Tatiana, putting his arm around her and nuzzling in her hair. “Your hair is growing out, Tanechka,” he said. “Grow it out all the way, will you? I loved it long.”
Whatever Alexander is doing, Tatiana thought, is not enough. Whatever we’re doing is not enough. How long can we continue? We need to stop talking to each other in front of Dima and Dasha and the rest of my family. Or soon there will be trouble. As if reading Tatiana’s mind, Alexander moved his chair closer to Dasha’s.
“Alexander,” asked Dasha, “the Germans are not up the whole Neva, are they?”
“Around the city, yes. All the way up the river to Lake Ladoga, to Shlisselburg.”
Shlisselburg was a small city built at the tip of Lake Ladoga, where the Neva spilled out of the lake and meandered seventy kilometers to Leningrad, emptying out into the Gulf of Finland.
“Is Shlisselburg under German control?” Dasha asked.
“No,” Alexander said, sighing. “But tomorrow it will be.”
“And then what?”
“Then we fight to keep the Germans out of Leningrad.”
Tatiana’s mother asked, “Now that the warehouses have burned down, how is food going to get into the city?”
Dimitri said, “Not just food, but kerosene, gasoline, munitions.”
Alexander said, “First, we stop the Germans from getting inside, then we worry about everything else.”
Dimitri laughed unpleasantly. “They can come inside if they want. Every major building in Leningrad has been mined. Every factory, every museum, every cathedral, every bridge. If Hitler enters the city, he will die in its ruins. We are not going to be stopping Hitler, just dying alongside him.”
“No, Dimitri, we are going to be stopping Hitler,” said Alexander. “Before the Germans get into the city.”
“So Leningrad is now scorched earth, too?” asked Tatiana. “What about all of us?”
No one replied.
Shaking his head, Alexander finally said, “Dimitri and I are headed for Dubrovka tomorrow. We will stop them if we can.”
“But why is it that it’s me and you who have to stand between the Germans and this city?” Dimitri exclaimed. “Why can’t we just give Leningrad up? Minsk gave up. Kiev gave up. Tallinn gave up, having burned to the ground first. The entire Crimea gave up. All of the Ukraine happily gave up!” He was getting himself into a terrible agitation. “What the hell are we doing killing all of our men to stop Hitler from coming here? Let him come.”
“But, Dimochka,” said Mama, “your Tania is here. And Alexander’s Dasha.”
“Oh, and let’s not forget me,” said Marina. “Even though I belong to nobody, I’m here, too.”
“That’s right, Dima,” said Alexander. “Do you want to step out of Hitler’s way so he can get to your girl?”
“Yes, Dima,” exclaimed Dasha. “Haven’t you heard what the Germans are doing to all the Ukrainian women?”
“I haven’t heard; what are they doing?” asked Tatiana.
“Nothing, Tania,” Alexander said gently. “Can I please have some more tea?”
Tatiana stood up.
Dimitri looked down into his empty cup. “I’ll get you some tea, too, Dima,” said Tatiana.
Marina said, looking down into her empty cup, “My poor Papa couldn’t stop them. They seem unstoppable, don’t you think?”
Alexander said nothing.
“They are unstoppable!” Dimitri exclaimed. “We have three pathetic army divisions. That’s not going to be enough, even if every last man dies and if every last tank is destroyed!”
Alexander stood from the table and saluted everyone. “On that note,” he said, “we must be going. Forget my tea, Tania.” Turning to Dimitri, he said, “Soldier on, Private, and let’s go. Your life stands between the Metanovs and Hitler.” He did not glance at Tatiana.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” mumbled Dimitri.
As they were leaving, Dasha cried, clinging to Alexander. “Will you promise to come back alive?”
“I will do my best.” And then he glanced at Tatiana.
Tatiana did not cry, nor did she extract the same promise from Dimitri. After they left, she had a piece of sweet biscuit, nursing it like a wound.
Marina said, “I really like your Dima, Tania. He is more honest than anyone I know. I like that in a soldier.”<
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Puzzled, Tatiana looked at her cousin. “What kind of a soldier doesn’t want to go and fight? You can have him, Marina.”
3
The next morning, as they were getting dressed, the Metanovs heard on the radio that an incendiary bomb had fallen on the roof of a building on Sadovaya Ulitsa and the roof patrol wasn’t able to put it out in time. It exploded, killing everyone there, nine people, all of them under the age of twenty.
My brother was under the age of twenty, Tatiana thought, putting on her shoes. Her shin was throbbing.
“You see? What did I tell you?” said Mama. “It’s dangerous to be on the roof.”
“We are in the middle of a city under siege, Mama,” Tatiana said. “It’s dangerous to be everywhere.”
The bombing started at precisely eight in the morning. Tatiana hadn’t even gone to get her rations yet. The family all piled downstairs to the bomb shelter. Restlessly Tatiana bit her nails to the quick and drummed and drummed a tune on her knees, but nothing helped. They sat for an hour.
Afterward Papa gave Tatiana his ration book and asked her to get his rations for him. Mama said, “Tanechka, can you get mine, too? I’ve got all this sewing to do before work. I’m sewing extra uniforms for the army.” She smiled. “One uniform for our Alexander, ten rubles for me.”
Tatiana asked Marina to come with her to the store. Marina declined, saying she was going to help Babushka get dressed. Dasha was in the kitchen washing clothes in the cast-iron sink.
Tatiana went by herself. She found a large store on the Fontanka Canal near the Theatre of Drama and Comedy. The theatre was showing Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night at seven that evening. The line at the store spilled down the embankment.
She forgot all about Twelfth Night when she got to the counter and learned that after yesterday’s burning of the Badayev warehouses the ration had been further reduced.
Papa got half a kilo of bread on his worker’s ration card, but everyone else got only 350 grams each, and Marina and Babushka only 250 grams. Altogether they had about two kilos of bread for the day. Besides bread, Tatiana managed to buy some carrots, soybeans, and three apples. She also bought 100 grams of butter and half a liter of milk.