Mushfig Khan - The late requiem. Story book

Translator Джафарова Нарханум

Editor Арсланова Елена

Cover designer Фарзи Теймур

© Mushfig Khan, 2017

© Джафарова Нарханум, translation, 2017

© Фарзи Теймур, cover design, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4485-9949-1

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

For the defence of Moscow by heroically Azerbaijani sniper Ziba Ganiyeva and all Great Patriotic War participants with dignity…

– Ziba!

– Nadejda Alexandrovna’s scream forced me to wake up and without understanding what happened, I spontaneously answered:

– I’m always ready!

What really happened?

Perhaps, nobody could understand me now at the lesson of Soviet literature. I kept silent and only pull down my hand.

– Ziba, what happened?

The teacher patiently and slowly stepped toward my desk and she stopped opposite me. I wanted to stand up again, but she carefully pulled down her hand on my shoulder and continued:

– Sit down, sit down. Don’t you listen to me?

Actually I heard nothing. She was totally right. I even didn’t think about answering her question. My shoulder was just got creeps all over again. I started breathing faster and faster. As my father said, shoulder was one of the most important parts of the sniper’s body, especially if she was woman. The safe haven for stock weapon, – which is always ready to support. Creeps were still running on me, and my fingers couldn’t stop caressing my hand. Smell of powder enveloped my imagination. Arif, sitting next to me couldn’t take his eyes off me. His gentle gaze returned me from dreams.

– Yes, Nadejda Alexandrovna, – finally I could answer.

– Then repeat, what I just said, – teacher asked, thinking about checking me.

– That war was fair, which was inevitable, – I repeated.

As you have probably guesses I heard nothing from teacher’s story. But decided to tell something than to keep my mouth shut, and then looked at her so surprised. I was just lucky. I knew by heart one of her favorite using expressions. Nadejda Alexsandrovna liked uttering this phrase, staring at class and suddenly asked somebody just in a case, to be sure, that everybody listen to her. In this time I was her intelligence’s “victim”.

Silence has fallen over the class, although that a few minutes ago waves of laughter were sweeping through my strange activities.

While mom was at the kitchen, preparing dinner, I went up quickly to the attic. Carefully touching a little bale of hay, I found my father’s gun. Surprisingly, but my hands weren’t trembling. Ahh… how arrogantly my index finger kept on the trigger!

Suddenly I’d noticed brown spot size of as 20 coins on the gun barrel. I became totally mad how could it happen? How did it could get rusty?! I dusted “my lovely friend” every week, smeared oil and kept it as the apple of my eyes. It was the only thing which had been left since dad’s demise. I even gave him nickname “Fearless”. I came down quickly when my mom called.

– Fearless, I’ll be back and tie off your wound, – I kissed gun barrel with whispering.

I was having dinner without appetite, because all my thoughts were near his “wound”. Is it possible to peel the stain and cover with nail polish?

***

In those years, with which I started my story, almost all classmates fall in love and split up. Probably, many of them interpreted me like child – walking around with my head in the cloud. But it was absolutely uninteresting for me. While we were at graduating class, nine of my classmates almost didn’t attend school. Two of them run away with their lovers. (I couldn’t keep my laughing when I remembered how they had been found and returned to school). They’ve been informed to bear with a little. The others get engaged and after a few months were preparing to wedding. Only four of us: I, Sveta and Gulnaz, who sat side by side at the back of the class and also Nadejda Alexandrovna – didn’t have lovely. I forgot to tell you that our teacher was very beautiful blonde woman with long curly hair. Her beloved died in a war last year – in December 1941 – while occupying the Moscow near the village Pustinka.

Past two months we graduated school. Despite being unappealing girl, Sveta immediately got engaged after graduation. Her fiancé was handsome young man. But Gulnaz was still waiting her prince on a white horse.

The days quickly passed by. After final exam our school life will be over. I was preparing very seriously to all my exams, and it made my mother happy. I was the only happiness in her life and she worried about me a lot. Unfortunately, my mother didn’t want to hear anything about what will be after exams. She had big plans, related with my future life…

Her plans didn’t attract me. She wants that “get married, be a teacher, as Nadejda Alexandrovna, and teach the children at village’s school and go on…

But every night I dreamed about absolutely different things. I wanted to go to the front and finish my father’s mission. I didn’t know if it would have end or not. I knew exactly – I didn’t want to fall in love. What can be better than love to the motherland? Protecting and struggling for her – were the real targets for bright future! For every soldier there wasn’t better lover than love to homeland.

Homeland doesn’t need the names of the heroes. People must perpetuate their memory. Remember – strength is in unity and in courage. You couldn’t only be hero in words, in photos or on the pictures in book. Faith in victory and love to homeland – were the real qualities of real hero.

***

– For our country! – I was woken up by my own voice. I tried to stand up, but strong pain in the left shoulder held me down to the bed. I didn’t remember how long I had been sleeping. What happened? Where was I? The room around me was poorly lit and nobody was nearby. The smell reminded me hospital’s room. One more attempt to move failed. Different hoses were hanging over my head, pouring blood and compressing my hands. I was fifteen minutes in half – sitting position. Gradually, the memory returned to me. It was probably the 14th or 15th or may be 16th of April. Last time, I had received assignment from commander of our regiment Jamal Gasimov on 12th of April. I exactly remembered the place of enemy sniper and how I gauged. But unfortunately, I became a target myself. There was no point in sorting through different assumptions. I was injured, but alive. The only thing that caused disappointment was that I missed dangerous sniper, called “Berlin’s fox”. It was late for the pity. During last three years I was always in the forefront and didn’t have a chance to visit mom. Imagine three long years separated from her…

If there was tiny opportunity, without any doubts I would go to the battlefield. Thinking about what could happen, I was waiting that someone would open the door. The sound of footfalls, coming from a distance were approaching, but rarely reaching the door, again disappeared. But it didn’t last long. This time the door opened without knock. Nurse caught me open – eyed, quickly ran in the hallway. I didn’t even have a chance to say anything. Actually I didn’t check my voice – maybe I became dumb. But it was impossible, because I waken up by my scream. Let’s check! I got up the nerve and yelled towards the door:

– Who is there?

– Daughter!

O Heavens that was my mom. Apparently, the nurse ran to rejoice my mother. At that time I wished to have wings and fly to mom. She was also confused and couldn’t understand what to do. She stopped for a while and just stared at me, before giving a hug. Mother could scarcely believe her eyes.