September 14th, 1942

I’m sitting up on my bed in a hospital east of the Volga river. There isn’t much to do here other than read the army newspaper and listen to the constant stream of explosions coming from across the river. The bombers had their way with that city.

They try to make things sound as if we’re winning, but the constant stream of freshly wounded men coming in and the rumors that I hear around the hospital paint a different picture, one of sadness and desperation.

I hear the familiar clip clop of a pair of shoes as they come down the aisle, and look up.

It’s one of the nurses here, Yeva. She isn’t the only one who I have dealt with, but most of the care and attention I receive here comes from her.

Yeva is a pretty, young nurse, eighteen years old, with light brown hair that shines, big, gentle eyes, and a figure that rivals my own. She is very sweet, and is loved by all of the men here.

“How do you feel today, Tatyana?”

“Honestly, I feel pretty strong.” I answer.

“You are getting strong.” Yeva tells me. “The doctors tell me that you should be out of here in just a few weeks.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m looking forward to it.”

“What do you have there?” Yeva asks.

“It’s a letter from my friend Sasha.” I explain to her.

“The one from your school?”

“Yes.”

“How is she?”

“Healthy.” I answer. “Things aren’t easy for her, taking care of her baby, but she assures me that she is going to be alright.”

“That’s good to hear, Tatyana.” Yeva says to me. “I need to attend to some of my other patients now, but I’ll check on you soon.”

“Thank you, Yeva. It was nice talking to you. It always is.”

Yeva leaves my side and walks about the bay, chatting with a few of her patients. She leans over one of their beds, her skirt clinging tightly to her shapely butt as it sticks out. Half a dozen men stare at it from their own beds. I roll my eyes and let out a small laugh. Like mischievous schoolchildren, they snap their eyes back when she stands up and turns around, then casually continue whatever it was they were doing.

Yeva crosses the aisle and comes to the bed next to me, where a man sits on the bed, missing the lower half of one of his legs.

“Hi Yeva.” He says, enamored.

“Good morning, Boris.” She says sweetly. “Are you ready to go home now?”

“I am.” He says. “Just one thing makes me sad.”

“What is that?” She asks.

“That I won’t be seeing you anymore.”

“Awww.” Yeva sighs cutely. “I’m sorry, but at least you’ll be back with your family.”

“Yeva?” He asks. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Can I write you?”

“I don’t know… I’m really busy with all of my patients. Besides, your girlfriend might get upset.”

“I don’t have one.” He says. “She dumped me when she found out that I was coming home… like this.”

“Okay.” She sighs. “Write your address down for me.”

He gleefully tears at the secondary on the small table beside his bed, and hastily writes a few lines of information down for her.

“Here.” He says, handing it to her. She folds it and puts it in one of her pockets.

“Let me help you up now.” Yeva says, gathering a pair of crutches. She helps him to his foot and slowly walks him down the aisle and to the entrance.

I’m lucky to have a spot here where I can see the doors. It makes things a lot less boring, and I can keep track of who comes and goes. I can see Yeva talking to the man, rubbing his shoulder. She kisses his cheek gently and sees him out.

A brief moment later she comes back through the door, then digs the piece of paper from her pocket, crumples it, and throws it in the trash without an emotion.