Self-education
In this age of scientific and technological revolutions, self-education is considered to be a valuable tool. At the front, it was indispensable, helping soldiers adapt to a variety of dangerous situations.
For illustrative purposes, I'm going to describe the behavior of a young man during two air bombardments. When he found himself under falling enemy bombs for the first time in his life, he was literally trembling from fear. It seemed that every bomb was falling directly towards him. He flung himself around his trench, uncertain whether to leave it or to just hunker down. At the same time, his brain was gathering valuable information, probably on the subconscious level - the German aircraft formation, their movement before and after each bombing run, and who knows what else.
A month later, this young but now experienced soldier found himself in yet another bombing, and this time behaved himself quite differently. A squadron of Junkers was setting up a bombing run on a column of trucks stuck in a traffic jam near Grozny. Our hero with a few other soldiers, remnants of a destroyed unit, was at the time resting about two hundred meters from the highway. During those days, the soldiers weren't getting any rations and had to fend for themselves; they were constantly hungry. Our hero, for instance, had to trade a grenade to some Chechen kid for a meat pastry.
Seeing that the Germans were going to bomb the column, the soldier ran towards it as fast as he could, while passing truck drivers and guards running the other way. The Junkers were behaving in their customary way - forming a circle of aircraft and commencing their bombing runs with the rear-most vehicles. Our hero ran to the trucks at the head of the column, somehow keeping an eye on the enemy aircraft. Suddenly, he spotted the first Junkers enter a short dive and drop his stick. "These aren't mine," he thought as he jumped into the nearest truck.
Nothing interesting here. He quickly climbed out and jumped into the next truck. Success. Our hero took a loaf of bread from a big plywood crate while taking note of the Junkers: another aircraft dropped its stick. "Not mine." He looks over the rest of the truck and spots a promising bag. He ripped the bag open with his dagger (by that time, he had thrown away his bolt-action rifle and managed to scrounge up an automatic Tokarev rifle with a dagger-bayonet - L.Veger) and saw sugar pour out. He let the sugar pour into one of his pockets.
The circle of Junkers now moved on towards the column's center, and the explosions were getting much closer. It was probably time to go, but then he noticed a crate of pickle jars. Hunger won out over caution. He ripped the crate lid off with his dagger and grabbed the nearest jar, then looked up at the sky. The bombs are falling. "Mine." He jumped off the truck and began running as fast as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a bright flash where the truck had just been standing and hit the ground. Safe.
Of course, there were also quite a few people at the front who weren't able or willing to adapt to their conditions. They usually didn't last very long on the frontline.
The CO of our battalion's first company was a respected soldier - a well-built man with a kindly, open face. He distinguished himself by wearing a new bright white winter coat, unlike all the other commanders - even the battalion CO, who typically didn't find himself in dangerous situations, wore a soldier's gray overcoat. The company CO also earned our respect by personally leading us in each attack. I can see him now - climbing out of the trenches early in the morning and marching towards the Germans at full height. His company followed him. Some tried to warn him, but he never changed - always wore his white winter coat and always lead his company in the attack.
Truth be told, after every attack most of the company wound up killed or wounded, but this officer happened to be extremely lucky and lasted almost a month. He could have left for a staff position during this time, like many of his peers, but for some reason he remained a company CO. We, scouts, understood that he couldn't last long. Our platoon commander once told us: "he's got a good set of field glasses. Keep your eye on him."
…I happened to be the one who got to pick up his field glasses…We were in the middle of another attack. The company pushed the Germans out of their trenches and turned towards the nearby village. I saw the company CO come out from behind a house and start looking at something through his field glasses. "Why did he have to come out from cover? He could have just stuck his head out, the Germans are really close," - I thought. And then, he fell. When I got to him, he was on his back, arms spread wide. There was a small wound above his temple, spurting a small fountain of a red-gray mixture.
The field glasses lay near his body.
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