I was lying down by the tree, my back resting on the trunk; I was relaxed but observant and focused.
“Mom, do you remember how we were driving by the sunflowers field? Dad stopped the car we got off and went closer to the plants. I tore off the heavy full of seeds head of the plant and ate seeds right there, my hands got sticky and I couldn’t clean them off. You poured water from the bottle and I tried to wash my hands and it didn’t help – I had to sit in the car going home and did not touch anything.” – He was smiling, a huge grin from ear to ear.
“My son, I don’t think he changed a lot” – she thought studying so familiar boyish face: freckle on the nose, a birthmark at the right cheek, long almost like girls eyelashes over blue eyes. If it wasn’t short military style haircut and the uniform, you never know that he is a soldier.
“I brought you your favorite treats” – she pulled an apricot jam and homemade bread from the travel bag. He jumped to his feet, excitement in the eyes; he broke the bread in half, opened the jar and with the spoon that mother gave him started spreading jam over the bread; not satisfied he thrust the spoon into the jar and began eating straight from it.
“You always had a great appetite.” – She said wiping the bread crumbs and the jam from his chin. He pulled his head back and looked around making sure nobody saw this embarrassing moment.
“Mom, please don’t wipe my face, I can do it by myself.” – He said with a childish pout. She smiled back.
I was amused with this innocuous exchange.
The boy fixed his eyes on the horizon where seemed endless carpet of red daisies met with the vastness of the blue sky.
“I didn’t want to go that day, Mom, but orders are the orders and we had to mop up that village” – He started. “I felt a knot in my stomach; I looked at my watch but it stopped working – it was 6:30 AM, and I left it on my bunk bed under the pillow.”
I turned my head towards the young soldier listening attentively.
We lined up by the tents and were waiting on the trucks; two trucks and two personnel carriers stopped by. A column of four vehicles was moving fast – one personnel carrier with our battalion commander was at the head of the column, one at the back and two trucks sandwiched in the middle – a usual procedure. I was sitting at the back of the third vehicle. The country road was in open and there should be no danger, but only one part of trip might give some problems – a green forested area in two kilometers north of the village.
I heard a chatter of the troops sitting on the top of the carriers. We were inching closer to the green zone – you could almost feel the tension in the air. I’ve gone through this before, and every time I felt agitation and fear, you expect to be shot at; you wait, and wait and wait, you think whether you are going to be wounded, maimed or killed, is it going to be painful; “Am I going to scream?” As if you turned on some switch in your head, and you wait, your mouth is dry; you so tensed that ready to explode.
The whole column all four vehicles were in the green zone, and recon said it was secure. I saw a flash, like a lightning charge, and then first carrier jerked and stopped a smoke coming from under the turret; the troops who sat on the top were thrown down and were screaming, and yelling, and cursing – the very first grenade from the Chechen grenade launcher hit it. Then, an explosion right behind our truck, and then one more explosion, I turned and saw second carrier engulfed in flames; screams, fire, smoke. I realized that to sit in the truck is sure to be killed – we can’t move in either direction, since both carriers blocked the way at the front and rear. We jumped off the truck shooting at the direction, we thought, the grenades came from, they were shooting at us and you couldn’t put you head up, bullets buzzing, people yelling, smoke, fire. I felt an excruciating pain in my upper back, but I didn’t pay attention to it. I rolled into the ditch by the road and crawled further down towards the thick greenery hoping there were no guerillas over there. I got up and ran, stumbled over tree limbs, lost my hat, the branches hitting my face and crawled again.
Through the sick underbrush and the trees, I noticed a clearing, a light. I darted in its direction; the silence descended on the forest, it was interrupted just single shots far behind – our column was finished. I was approaching the clearing, and here I saw her. She was so beautiful -a long blond hair falling over her shoulders, warm hazel eyes looked straight at me, a white transparent dress, she showed me to come closer; then took my hand and pulled me towards the light.
It was the sunflowers field; we roamed through the flowers our hands holding together – I felt peace and lightness, I felt safe.
“Come, my son, you need to take a rest” – a woman said taking his hand and laying him down on her lap. He put his head down and closed eyes. “Sleep my son, sleep my love” – sang woman a lullaby, the heavy tears rolled over her cheeks. I was captivated by the magnificent moment of tenderness between Mother and the child, and I would cry too if I could.
The sharp sound of the alarm clock jolted her from the bed. It was cold; she put her feet into the fuzzy sleepers and covered her shoulders with the shawl. I got up from sofa too.
She gently closed the door of the bedroom behind do not disturb her husband; the loyal German Sheppard Jack followed her, his sagging and grey haired head down ready for their kitchen routine. But she stopped and opened the door of the other room. It was a picture on the wall, she looked at it. I peered at it over her shoulder too – a young smiling boy in the Russian army uniform, the German Sheppard puppy in his hands trying to reach and lick his face. Age-old wall clock was ticking, the time showed 6:30 AM. Standing under the picture candle almost gone, but the tiny fire was still flickering. Woman blown out the candle, came to the window, opened the blinds and pulled aside the heavy window drapes, the morning light pierced through the class, illuminating his room. She went to the closet and started taking his clothes off the racks. “Bring me the carton box, please” – she yelled to her husband, hearing him making breakfast at the kitchen, “and make me some coffee”.
“I had no idea that we drink coffee in this house”- her husband muttered looking at Jack.
“I can leave now.” – Young soldier smiled at me.