Chapter Seventeen - The Raid
The police station was bigger than Jan had descried it. A solid grey block made of concrete, two stories high and flanked on either side by shops. It looked odd between the bright awnings of the shop fronts, their big window displays glinting in the midday sun. Out of place on such a busy shopping street that had a square and fountain at the far end.
It was so pretty here, Katka thought. The street was decorated with flowers hanging from baskets on every lamp-post and behind the police station, ugly and squat as a school bully, rose a great wall of green as the forest reached down the hillside to the very edge of the town .
‘Don’t move, do not talk.’ had been Jan’s instructions and for two hours all five had sat in silence, Katka, Paul, Rudi not even able to look out through the tiny window on the side of the van. But it was impossible to be bored right now. The air buzzed as if an electric charge were surging between them. They looked at each other, looked at their fingers, their feet, each trapped in their thoughts, trapped in the repeated imaginings of what would happen next, what would unfold when Jan gave the order to jump from the van and attack.
Katka shifted uneasily on the vegetable box she was using as a seat. She was too hot, sweat had begun trickling down her neck. She looked at the others, all hard faces and silent. Paul, who was next to her Paul, had his eyes shut, although clearly he was still awake. His fingers worked frantically at the zipper of his jacket, repeatedly turning it and turning it.
‘Four in, four out.’ Petr said, his voice quiet and directed at Jan, who sat opposite and like Paul had his eyes shut. But unlike Paul his hands were still and on his face a lokk of concentration. In his his head he was keeping a mental count of the number of people going in and out of the building. When he determined that building was least occupied they would go in. this was the plan. This was as complicated as Jan wanted it.
‘But this is not how he said it would be.’ Katka muttered, although too quiet for anyone to hear. But when she looked up she noticed Rudi was staring at her. He looked at her for a long moment then flitted his eyes back to Paul, then to Petr by the window. It was clear he was thinking the same thing. This is madness, Katka thought, this is an attack in broad daylight. It is sure to get us killed.
But there was nothing she could do, nothing any of them could do and so they sat in silence, thinking, worrying, a nervous unease rested heavily on the roof of the old delivery van they were using for the raid, it made the air think, hot, it was hard to breath.
Just don’t admit you’re afraid, Katka told herself, don’t speak aloud and don’t move either. Jan had told them repeatedly to stay still as soon as they had got into position by the side of the road. ‘If anyone sees the van rocking they will know we are in here.’ he had said, looking from one set of anxious eyes to the next. Then for the next two hours they had sat, stolen machine guns resting in their laps, not speaking and not moving, each just trapped in their own swamp of thought as Petr and Jan counted the number in the number out.
‘That’s five in and six out.’ Petr said.
That’s one less, Katka thought. One less person that they would have to confront when they ran across the road and into the police building. And without being able to stop herself, the showreel in her mind replayed for the hundredth time the moment she would jump from the van and run across the road. She imagined the gun in her hands, heavy, cold, her finger on the trigger of a gun that was loaded, that she would empty into the chest of an enemy soldier if one tried to stop her.
Katka felt sick. Her palms sweated, her mouth was dry.
‘That’s five in, eight out.’ Petr said, keeping count with the same monotonous tone.
‘Are you alright?’ Paul asked, his hand suddenly resting on Katka’s knee.
Katka nodded, but she didn’t reply. She had nothing to say except the one thought that was bullying its way about her mind. Just don’t speak, don’t admit you’re scared, she told herself.
‘Careful,’ Rudi said in a loud whisper and he leant forward so his face was closer to Paul’s, but speaking to Katka he said, ‘if you puke you’ll mess up those nice new clothes you’ve been given.’
‘What?’ Katka said in a sharp retort, was he joking, or was he just making fun? It was hardly the time Katka thought but involuntarily she looked down. She looked at the new work boots she had on, the trousers that were too long and had had to be rolled up around her ankles. Jan had given her these clothes, he had given clothes to Paul too but his fit much better. They both wore jackets with big collars that could be turned up and caps that could be pulled down to disguise their faces. Although Katka didn’t feel disguised, she felt like a little girl who was dressing up in her father’s old clothes, but more significantly she felt like a little girl who had got herself into more trouble than she’d ever be able to get herself out of.
Suddenly annoyed, Katka pushed cap back from her face.
‘Oh my God, she really is going to puke, isn’t she?’ Rudi said, pointing to Katka’s face. He laughed.
‘Quiet!’ Jan snapped, ‘I said no noise.’
Paul offered Katka a water bottle, ‘Take a sip.’ he said.
‘That’s twelve out, eight in.’
‘Brace yourselves.’ Jan commanded. ‘We’re about to go in.’
Oh God! Katka swallowed a mouthful of water. She tried, but it became lodged like a stone in her throat.
Paul and Rudi both secured the clips in their guns. Rudi clicked off the safety switch on him. Petr eased open the van door. Katka tried to ready herself, but she fumbled with the magazine she wanted to fit to her gun and dropped the bottle of water. It cracked on the hard metal floor of the van.
‘Katka!’ Jan said, leaning forward, his voice hushed but forceful, ‘pull your cap down.’
Katka did not. She could not because her hands were full and she felt overwhelmingly hot. She felt as if she might faint.
‘Pull it down,’ Jan demanded and he stepped over and forcedly pulled the cap down over her face, ‘It will hide you fear. If they can’t see your face they won’t know you’re scared.’
Then cocking his own gun he said to the whole group, loud and forcibly, ‘Are we ready?’
All nodded. No need to speak aloud.
‘Rudi, Paul, Petr, cover us as we go in. If any reinforcements arrive, show no mercy. We need protection when we’re inside and I am counting on you three to give it to us.’
He paused for a moment, allowing this information to sink in, waiting perhaps for any last minute questions, any signs of uncertainty.
When no questions came. He looked at Katka, ‘I know you’re afraid, I know you don’t want to do this. But be brave, Katka. Do not think.’
He kicked open the van door.
‘There is no time to think, because today, comrades,’ he said, ‘We kill Nazis!’
Then he leapt from the back of the van.
Katka and the others followed. They did not need to be told.
At once Petr and the other two crouched by the curb, aiming the stubby snouts of their automatics in either direction along the street.
To Katka’s relief the street was far emptier now compared to how it had been when they had arrived at lunchtime, just a few parked cars and no people, save an old man crossing the road in the distance.
Jan began to walk briskly across the road towards the police station.
Katka followed. Her body working instinctively as she took Jan’s lead, walked with his chest out and head held up in the most confident and businesslike manner. He walked all the way to the police station doors. Then he stopped and turned so his back was against the wall next to the door. He gestured for Katka to take the other side.
‘On the count of three.’ he said.
Katka nodded.
‘One,’
Katka swallowed, she steeled herself.
two…’ she looked at Jan, then looked at the door. Something clicked inside her. Her dizziness, the sickness in her stomach, suddenly disappeared.
‘Three.’
Jan spun from the wall, Katka too, and together they burst through the door.
At once Jan opened fire.
Two grey uniformed soldiers, who had been standing guard in the lobby, at once splayed backwards into the air like rags dolls. They flew with enough force it was as if they had been hit by train. But before they had even hit the floor, Jan and Katka were past them and into the inner corridor of the police station.
It was long corridor and had a series of doors along one side.
‘Stick close.’ Jan shouted, then from his belt he pulled a stick grenade and threw it through the first door.
The immediate explosion ripped from the doorway. Katka’s ears screamed from the blast.
‘Here, you do the next,’ he said, trusting a second grenade into her hands.
Without thinking Katka did what she was asked. She pulled the pin and threw the grenade, then ran forward, out of range of the blast.
Quickly and alternately they moved along the corridor, destroying every room. Within seconds the air was clogged with smoke, the floor strewn with debris. All Katka could hear was the high pitched whistle as her ears reeled from the shock of the blast. But she heard Jan when he shouted, his voice loud and direct enough to make himself heard above the chaos they had just created. ‘Upstairs!’ he told Katka and he pushed her past himself as he let rip with a volley of bullets back along the corridor.
At the top of the stairs was another long corridor.
‘This room here.’ Jan said, having run quickly up the stairs behind Katka. He indicating one of two rooms that led off from the landing they were standing on, ‘Search though those filing cabinets and then detonate this.’ and he handed Katka another stick grenade.
Katka ran into the first room. It was a large room filled with rows of filing cabinets, made of wood and stretching from the floor to the ceiling. She stuffed the grenade into her belt and let her gun slip round on its strap so that it rested on her hip. Then she pulled one of the drawers open, and at the same time it occurred to her that she had no idea what she was looking for. Inside was just a mass of papers, maroon coloured folders and labels displaying numbers and names of places.
‘What am I supposed to find?’ she muttered, speaking to no one, except wishing Jan had given her some clear direction. Then she opened the first file, hoping that inside she would find some information, some guidance at least that would tell her what to look for. But inside a mass of typed pages, tight text, names, numbers, heavily worded paragraphs, and all written in German. It made no sense at all and Katka dropped it to the floor and opened another, then another. All were the same.
‘This means nothing.’ Katka said to herself, and she swore aloud and began pulling out whole drawers from the cabinet. A storm of papers filled the air, littered the polished floor. It was pointless, a hopeless task and she realised there was no way she would find any information on her father.
Suddenly Jan was standing in the doorway. ‘Here,’ he said, holding out a paper file, ‘This is the file you need. Now clear out the room.’
Katka took the file Jan was holding. She put it inside her jacket, then took the grenade from her belt and began fumbling with the fuse. It was much harder this time. Her hands had begun to shake and from outside she could now hear the sharp bursts of machine gun fire.
‘Jan!’ Katka shouted, because suddenly he wasn’t in the room. She pulled at the metal pin on the grenade but it slipped from her hand and rolled away from her on the floor. ‘Jan!’ she shouted again, and in the same moment heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.
Katka raised her gun.
Three soldiers appeared at the top of the stairs, but instead of firing at her the first one froze. He looked at Katka with almost surprise on his face. Perhaps because he was young, because he had a gentle look in his eyes and he wasn’t prepared to have to fight a girl, who was young like he was, and dressed in normal clothes, she was not a soldier at all.
Katka opened fire.
She did not hesitate, she showed no mercy and she felt no fear and she hit the first soldier with a volley of at least six rounds in the chest. His grey tunic erupted in a crimson flurry as he fell back, taking the other two with him. They fell messily down the stairs.
Suddenly Jan was standing next to Katka. ‘Move!’ he shouted. Then stepping past Katka to the stairs he fired a burst of his own into the tumbled mess of soldiers at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Move, move, move!’ he shouted and he must have set his last grenade on a timer because an explosion ripped through the air behind them.
It buffeted the air and threw Katka into a run down the stairs. She stuck close to Jan and together they ran through the smoke filled corridor and towards the main door.
As they went Katka couldn’t help but to look in through the doorways to the rooms they had destroyed on the way in. It was a sight that was immediately burned into Katka’s memory. Hideous, horrible. Bodies on the floor, tossed across table tops. Blood, smoke, parts of the room on fire. And these people are not soldiers, Katka thought as she ran after Jan to the street. Not the grey uniforms of the German army, but civilians in suits, shirt sleeves, men and women, all now dead and Katka thought, ‘It was me. I did it, I have killed.’
Outside Paul was firing along the road. An army vehicle was stopped in the centre of the street, and to Katka’s horror she saw that it was a tank. It’s heavy machine gun was thundering in a deafening roar as it sent round after round of bullets along the road.
‘Quick, to the van!’ Jan shouted.
Rudi was at the driver’s seat and he had the engine running.
Other German soldiers were in the street too, some crouching for cover as they exchanged fire with Paul, others lying lifeless on the ground.
‘Katka, run!’ Jan shouted. He then took hold of Petr, who Katka noticed then had been hit. He was clutching at his side, his brown jacket now stained red with blood.
Paul kept firing as he ran behind Katka and Jan across the road. Together the piled into the back of the van as Rudi immediately pulled away.
Jan fired through the open door as they sped away. Katka looked, just in time to see a great lump of metal hurtle over the top of the van and then pound into the building to their side. It was the tank’s big gun. It fired again, but within seconds they were far enough away to be out of accurate range.
The van lurched from the town’s main street, Katka and Paul holding on by their fingertips as Jan leant from the back of the van, ‘Victory!’ he shouted, then ‘Widerstand! Widerstand!’
Victory to the resistance, Katka thought. But in her mind she could only picture the civilians that had died. Bodies in the smoky room, their blood on the floor, their blood on Katka’a hand.
The van came to a sudden stop.
‘Quick, into the woods.’ Jan ordered and then he told Paul to help his as together they carried Petr’s limp frame to the shelter of the trees.
Katka ran ahead. In her hands she was still clutching the machine gun, the weapon she had used to kill.
I am a murder, she thought. I am as bad as them.
It was so pretty here, Katka thought. The street was decorated with flowers hanging from baskets on every lamp-post and behind the police station, ugly and squat as a school bully, rose a great wall of green as the forest reached down the hillside to the very edge of the town .
‘Don’t move, do not talk.’ had been Jan’s instructions and for two hours all five had sat in silence, Katka, Paul, Rudi not even able to look out through the tiny window on the side of the van. But it was impossible to be bored right now. The air buzzed as if an electric charge were surging between them. They looked at each other, looked at their fingers, their feet, each trapped in their thoughts, trapped in the repeated imaginings of what would happen next, what would unfold when Jan gave the order to jump from the van and attack.
Katka shifted uneasily on the vegetable box she was using as a seat. She was too hot, sweat had begun trickling down her neck. She looked at the others, all hard faces and silent. Paul, who was next to her Paul, had his eyes shut, although clearly he was still awake. His fingers worked frantically at the zipper of his jacket, repeatedly turning it and turning it.
‘Four in, four out.’ Petr said, his voice quiet and directed at Jan, who sat opposite and like Paul had his eyes shut. But unlike Paul his hands were still and on his face a lokk of concentration. In his his head he was keeping a mental count of the number of people going in and out of the building. When he determined that building was least occupied they would go in. this was the plan. This was as complicated as Jan wanted it.
‘But this is not how he said it would be.’ Katka muttered, although too quiet for anyone to hear. But when she looked up she noticed Rudi was staring at her. He looked at her for a long moment then flitted his eyes back to Paul, then to Petr by the window. It was clear he was thinking the same thing. This is madness, Katka thought, this is an attack in broad daylight. It is sure to get us killed.
But there was nothing she could do, nothing any of them could do and so they sat in silence, thinking, worrying, a nervous unease rested heavily on the roof of the old delivery van they were using for the raid, it made the air think, hot, it was hard to breath.
Just don’t admit you’re afraid, Katka told herself, don’t speak aloud and don’t move either. Jan had told them repeatedly to stay still as soon as they had got into position by the side of the road. ‘If anyone sees the van rocking they will know we are in here.’ he had said, looking from one set of anxious eyes to the next. Then for the next two hours they had sat, stolen machine guns resting in their laps, not speaking and not moving, each just trapped in their own swamp of thought as Petr and Jan counted the number in the number out.
‘That’s five in and six out.’ Petr said.
That’s one less, Katka thought. One less person that they would have to confront when they ran across the road and into the police building. And without being able to stop herself, the showreel in her mind replayed for the hundredth time the moment she would jump from the van and run across the road. She imagined the gun in her hands, heavy, cold, her finger on the trigger of a gun that was loaded, that she would empty into the chest of an enemy soldier if one tried to stop her.
Katka felt sick. Her palms sweated, her mouth was dry.
‘That’s five in, eight out.’ Petr said, keeping count with the same monotonous tone.
‘Are you alright?’ Paul asked, his hand suddenly resting on Katka’s knee.
Katka nodded, but she didn’t reply. She had nothing to say except the one thought that was bullying its way about her mind. Just don’t speak, don’t admit you’re scared, she told herself.
‘Careful,’ Rudi said in a loud whisper and he leant forward so his face was closer to Paul’s, but speaking to Katka he said, ‘if you puke you’ll mess up those nice new clothes you’ve been given.’
‘What?’ Katka said in a sharp retort, was he joking, or was he just making fun? It was hardly the time Katka thought but involuntarily she looked down. She looked at the new work boots she had on, the trousers that were too long and had had to be rolled up around her ankles. Jan had given her these clothes, he had given clothes to Paul too but his fit much better. They both wore jackets with big collars that could be turned up and caps that could be pulled down to disguise their faces. Although Katka didn’t feel disguised, she felt like a little girl who was dressing up in her father’s old clothes, but more significantly she felt like a little girl who had got herself into more trouble than she’d ever be able to get herself out of.
Suddenly annoyed, Katka pushed cap back from her face.
‘Oh my God, she really is going to puke, isn’t she?’ Rudi said, pointing to Katka’s face. He laughed.
‘Quiet!’ Jan snapped, ‘I said no noise.’
Paul offered Katka a water bottle, ‘Take a sip.’ he said.
‘That’s twelve out, eight in.’
‘Brace yourselves.’ Jan commanded. ‘We’re about to go in.’
Oh God! Katka swallowed a mouthful of water. She tried, but it became lodged like a stone in her throat.
Paul and Rudi both secured the clips in their guns. Rudi clicked off the safety switch on him. Petr eased open the van door. Katka tried to ready herself, but she fumbled with the magazine she wanted to fit to her gun and dropped the bottle of water. It cracked on the hard metal floor of the van.
‘Katka!’ Jan said, leaning forward, his voice hushed but forceful, ‘pull your cap down.’
Katka did not. She could not because her hands were full and she felt overwhelmingly hot. She felt as if she might faint.
‘Pull it down,’ Jan demanded and he stepped over and forcedly pulled the cap down over her face, ‘It will hide you fear. If they can’t see your face they won’t know you’re scared.’
Then cocking his own gun he said to the whole group, loud and forcibly, ‘Are we ready?’
All nodded. No need to speak aloud.
‘Rudi, Paul, Petr, cover us as we go in. If any reinforcements arrive, show no mercy. We need protection when we’re inside and I am counting on you three to give it to us.’
He paused for a moment, allowing this information to sink in, waiting perhaps for any last minute questions, any signs of uncertainty.
When no questions came. He looked at Katka, ‘I know you’re afraid, I know you don’t want to do this. But be brave, Katka. Do not think.’
He kicked open the van door.
‘There is no time to think, because today, comrades,’ he said, ‘We kill Nazis!’
Then he leapt from the back of the van.
Katka and the others followed. They did not need to be told.
At once Petr and the other two crouched by the curb, aiming the stubby snouts of their automatics in either direction along the street.
To Katka’s relief the street was far emptier now compared to how it had been when they had arrived at lunchtime, just a few parked cars and no people, save an old man crossing the road in the distance.
Jan began to walk briskly across the road towards the police station.
Katka followed. Her body working instinctively as she took Jan’s lead, walked with his chest out and head held up in the most confident and businesslike manner. He walked all the way to the police station doors. Then he stopped and turned so his back was against the wall next to the door. He gestured for Katka to take the other side.
‘On the count of three.’ he said.
Katka nodded.
‘One,’
Katka swallowed, she steeled herself.
two…’ she looked at Jan, then looked at the door. Something clicked inside her. Her dizziness, the sickness in her stomach, suddenly disappeared.
‘Three.’
Jan spun from the wall, Katka too, and together they burst through the door.
At once Jan opened fire.
Two grey uniformed soldiers, who had been standing guard in the lobby, at once splayed backwards into the air like rags dolls. They flew with enough force it was as if they had been hit by train. But before they had even hit the floor, Jan and Katka were past them and into the inner corridor of the police station.
It was long corridor and had a series of doors along one side.
‘Stick close.’ Jan shouted, then from his belt he pulled a stick grenade and threw it through the first door.
The immediate explosion ripped from the doorway. Katka’s ears screamed from the blast.
‘Here, you do the next,’ he said, trusting a second grenade into her hands.
Without thinking Katka did what she was asked. She pulled the pin and threw the grenade, then ran forward, out of range of the blast.
Quickly and alternately they moved along the corridor, destroying every room. Within seconds the air was clogged with smoke, the floor strewn with debris. All Katka could hear was the high pitched whistle as her ears reeled from the shock of the blast. But she heard Jan when he shouted, his voice loud and direct enough to make himself heard above the chaos they had just created. ‘Upstairs!’ he told Katka and he pushed her past himself as he let rip with a volley of bullets back along the corridor.
At the top of the stairs was another long corridor.
‘This room here.’ Jan said, having run quickly up the stairs behind Katka. He indicating one of two rooms that led off from the landing they were standing on, ‘Search though those filing cabinets and then detonate this.’ and he handed Katka another stick grenade.
Katka ran into the first room. It was a large room filled with rows of filing cabinets, made of wood and stretching from the floor to the ceiling. She stuffed the grenade into her belt and let her gun slip round on its strap so that it rested on her hip. Then she pulled one of the drawers open, and at the same time it occurred to her that she had no idea what she was looking for. Inside was just a mass of papers, maroon coloured folders and labels displaying numbers and names of places.
‘What am I supposed to find?’ she muttered, speaking to no one, except wishing Jan had given her some clear direction. Then she opened the first file, hoping that inside she would find some information, some guidance at least that would tell her what to look for. But inside a mass of typed pages, tight text, names, numbers, heavily worded paragraphs, and all written in German. It made no sense at all and Katka dropped it to the floor and opened another, then another. All were the same.
‘This means nothing.’ Katka said to herself, and she swore aloud and began pulling out whole drawers from the cabinet. A storm of papers filled the air, littered the polished floor. It was pointless, a hopeless task and she realised there was no way she would find any information on her father.
Suddenly Jan was standing in the doorway. ‘Here,’ he said, holding out a paper file, ‘This is the file you need. Now clear out the room.’
Katka took the file Jan was holding. She put it inside her jacket, then took the grenade from her belt and began fumbling with the fuse. It was much harder this time. Her hands had begun to shake and from outside she could now hear the sharp bursts of machine gun fire.
‘Jan!’ Katka shouted, because suddenly he wasn’t in the room. She pulled at the metal pin on the grenade but it slipped from her hand and rolled away from her on the floor. ‘Jan!’ she shouted again, and in the same moment heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.
Katka raised her gun.
Three soldiers appeared at the top of the stairs, but instead of firing at her the first one froze. He looked at Katka with almost surprise on his face. Perhaps because he was young, because he had a gentle look in his eyes and he wasn’t prepared to have to fight a girl, who was young like he was, and dressed in normal clothes, she was not a soldier at all.
Katka opened fire.
She did not hesitate, she showed no mercy and she felt no fear and she hit the first soldier with a volley of at least six rounds in the chest. His grey tunic erupted in a crimson flurry as he fell back, taking the other two with him. They fell messily down the stairs.
Suddenly Jan was standing next to Katka. ‘Move!’ he shouted. Then stepping past Katka to the stairs he fired a burst of his own into the tumbled mess of soldiers at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Move, move, move!’ he shouted and he must have set his last grenade on a timer because an explosion ripped through the air behind them.
It buffeted the air and threw Katka into a run down the stairs. She stuck close to Jan and together they ran through the smoke filled corridor and towards the main door.
As they went Katka couldn’t help but to look in through the doorways to the rooms they had destroyed on the way in. It was a sight that was immediately burned into Katka’s memory. Hideous, horrible. Bodies on the floor, tossed across table tops. Blood, smoke, parts of the room on fire. And these people are not soldiers, Katka thought as she ran after Jan to the street. Not the grey uniforms of the German army, but civilians in suits, shirt sleeves, men and women, all now dead and Katka thought, ‘It was me. I did it, I have killed.’
Outside Paul was firing along the road. An army vehicle was stopped in the centre of the street, and to Katka’s horror she saw that it was a tank. It’s heavy machine gun was thundering in a deafening roar as it sent round after round of bullets along the road.
‘Quick, to the van!’ Jan shouted.
Rudi was at the driver’s seat and he had the engine running.
Other German soldiers were in the street too, some crouching for cover as they exchanged fire with Paul, others lying lifeless on the ground.
‘Katka, run!’ Jan shouted. He then took hold of Petr, who Katka noticed then had been hit. He was clutching at his side, his brown jacket now stained red with blood.
Paul kept firing as he ran behind Katka and Jan across the road. Together the piled into the back of the van as Rudi immediately pulled away.
Jan fired through the open door as they sped away. Katka looked, just in time to see a great lump of metal hurtle over the top of the van and then pound into the building to their side. It was the tank’s big gun. It fired again, but within seconds they were far enough away to be out of accurate range.
The van lurched from the town’s main street, Katka and Paul holding on by their fingertips as Jan leant from the back of the van, ‘Victory!’ he shouted, then ‘Widerstand! Widerstand!’
Victory to the resistance, Katka thought. But in her mind she could only picture the civilians that had died. Bodies in the smoky room, their blood on the floor, their blood on Katka’a hand.
The van came to a sudden stop.
‘Quick, into the woods.’ Jan ordered and then he told Paul to help his as together they carried Petr’s limp frame to the shelter of the trees.
Katka ran ahead. In her hands she was still clutching the machine gun, the weapon she had used to kill.
I am a murder, she thought. I am as bad as them.