For a moment, Ilvanich was puzzled. Slurring his words, he asked haltingly, "What captain?"
The sergeant, confused for a moment, replied, "Captain Lvov, of course."
Then he added, "The company commander."
Ilvanich stared at the sergeant for a second, then sat upright.
"Lvov? Where in hell did he come from? Where is he?"
The sergeant pointed to their rear. "Over there, near the hangars. Come, will take you to him."
Ilvanich slowly stood up. Standing in the shallow hole, he stretched himself, slung his AK over his shoulder and pulled his canteen out.
After taking a sip of water, he turned and surveyed the area around him. The desolate landscape he viewed bore no resemblance to the wild and chaotic scenes he had lived through just hours before. To either side there stretched a line of shallow foxholes like the one he was in. They belonged to the remnants of the company. Dotting the landscape all about them were the bodies of his dead and wounded and those of the enemy. Medical teams were going about picking up the wounded and marking the dead.
Smoke still lingered at scattered points about the airfield.
Helicopters were coming and going at seemingly lazy pace. In the distance other units could be seen moving about, forming up or going about their assigned tasks.
"What is the final count this-morning, Sergeant?"
"One platoon leader, besides you, and thirty-eight men." Then, as an afterthought, the sergeant added, "And Captain Lvov."
Forty-one out of seventy-eight. Not bad. Better than Ilvanich had expected.
The battle had been short but extremely violent. Once the Americans had gotten over their initial shock, they had fought like tigers. The final stages of the fight had been hand to hand. In the predawn twilight men grappled with each other using knives and fists as the battle swayed in the balance. Only the sudden appearance of the regiment's follow-on forces finally decided the issue. Even then the American infantry had refused to yield, withdrawing into the desert rather than surrender. Only American ground crews and support personnel had been captured. The sergeant, watching his lieutenant, tactfully reminded him that Captain Lvov was waiting. Ilvanich thought as he returned his canteen to its case.
Fuck Lvov. We fight all morning and lose half the company before he shows up. His story, no doubt, will be fascinating. Then, to his sergeant, "Lead on, Sergeant, I am anxious to report to our commanding officer." The cutting sarcasm was not lost on the sergeant, who smirked and replied, "Yes, Comrade Lieutenant, we must not keep our commanding officer waiting."
Lvov was talking to the battalion's first officer when Ilvanich entered the hangar. The captain acknowledged the lieutenant's presence with a nod, but continued his 181 conversation. Ilvanich stopped several meters away and waited. As he stood there, arms loosely folded across his chest, his AK dangling from his shoulder and his eyes riveted on his captain, Ilvanich fought back his anger. The bastard, he thought.
He loses contact with his company all night, he has not been seen by anyone since the battle began, and he has no idea what the company's positions look like. Instead of running out to the line, he stands there like a pompous ass, talking to the battalion staff and summoning me like a schoolboy. As Ilvanich thought about Lvov and what had happened that morning, his hand slowly dropped to his AK. If I were half sane, I would kill the bastard right now, he told himself.
Finished with his chat, Lvov slowly walked over to him. Ilvanich, fighting back his urge to choke the captain, came to attention and rendered a smart, regulation salute.
"Junior Lieutenant Ilvanich reporting as ordered, Comrade Captain."
The captain was pleased. "What is your report, Junior Lieutenant?"
Lvov had accentuated the "Junior."
"Third Company has accomplished all assigned tasks. We cleared the hangars, pushed out from the airfield a distance of three hundred meters and established our portion of the defensive perimeter as ordered. Current strength is two officers and thirty-eight men. Ammunition resupply has been effected. Total losses for the action to date are twelve dead and twenty-one wounded. Senior Lieutenant Anatov is among the wounded."
The two men looked at each other while Lvov thought about Ilvanich's report. The captain had clearly winced when Ilvanich stressed the "we."
After a moment, Lvov replied, "Thank you for your report, Lieutenant. It is unfortunate that Lieutenant Anatov is wounded. Until he recovers, you will assume his duties as the deputy company commander."
Lvov waited for a response from Ilvanich, but did not get one.
Awkwardly, he continued. "I became separated from the company last night when the American jets came in. I went forward as soon as the helicopters lifted off. Unfortunately, the men did not follow, because of the jets and the air battle."
Ilvanich thought, You lying bastard. This company always follows. How convenient that the Americans provide a nice cover story.
Lvov, talking more to himself, went on. "When I found there was no one behind me, I went back to the landing site, but the company was gone.
Unable to find them, I attached myself to the regimental staff. I am glad to see that things were able to work themselves out."
For the first time Ilvanich thought of his commander as a coward. That anyone would believe his story was incredible. The two men stood and stared at each other for several seconds. Only the intervention of the battalion commander interrupted their private thoughts.
"Comrade Captain, the regimental commander wishes to see Lieutenant Ilvanich at regimental headquarters immediately."
Ilvanich turned to his battalion commander and asked why he had been summoned. His colonel replied that he did not know but that Ilvanich, Lvov and he had best go over and find out.
The three officers were greeted at the entrance of the airfield's administration building by a regimental staff officer, who escorted them to a conference room. Upon entering, Ilvanich froze. The entire regimental staff was assembled in the room, standing against the side walls. At the front of the room were the division commander and the regimental commander.
Between them were the regimental colors, guarded by two stern-faced paratroopers.
The regimental commander, standing at. attention, called out, "Junior Lieutenant Nikolai Ilvaich, come forward. "
As he made his way past the unsmiling faces of the staff officers, he suddenly became painfully aware of his disheveled appearance and of the AK loosely slung over his shoulder and banging against his side. Once he was at the front of the room, the regimental commander guided Ilvanich to a position between him and the division commander. Behind Ilvanich were his regimental colors.
With a nod, the regimental commander signaled the regimental adjutant to begin.
"In recognition of his heroism and leadership during the capture of the airfield at Kerman, Junior Lieutenant Nikolai Ilvanich is being awarded the Order of the Red Star. Through his efforts and example, his men were able to seize the initiative, overcome numerically superior enemy forces and allow the regiment time to reinforce and capitalize on the success achieved by 3rd Company. Lieutenant Ilvanich's leadership and courage are of the highest order and deserving of the appreciation of the Soviet people and the Soviet Union."
Ilvanich was dumbfounded as the division commander pinned the medal on his tunic and congratulated him. Even more surprising was the division commander's announcement that it was high time Ilvanich was given the rank he deserved. On cue, the regimental adjutant handed two lieutenant's epaulets to the division commander, who in turn handed one to the regimental commander. The two commanders removed Ilvanich's junior lieutenant's epaulets and replaced them with the others. In the excitement of the moment, Ilvanich did not notice that there were bloodstains from the former owner on the "new" lieutenant epaulets. He was overwhelmed. Someone shoved a glass of vodka into his hand while the staff officers congratulated him and patted him on the back. The division commander, raising his glass high, offered a toast to the young hero.