The Great Decline – Chapter 11

The Great Decline – Chapter 11

Sharko the dog despised the political commissar. Wherever it ran into him, in a trench, in the line in front of the cauldron, Sharko always barked, growled, looked at him with hatred in his eyes and showed him his teeth!

“Leftera!” the political commissar yelled. “Take this mutt out of here. Take it to the brook and shoot it… then bury it so it doesn’t stink.”

“I can’t!” replied Leftera. “I don’t want to waste a bullet.”

“No? Then take this wire here, make a noose, wrap it around its neck and hang it from a tree, if you don’t want to waste a bullet,” ordered the commissar.

Leftera looked away, ignoring the commissar who by now was getting frustrated and again yelled: “Leftera! How many times do I need to tell you to get rid of this dog?”

Leftera turned her back to the commissar, knelt down, wrapped her arms around the dog and hugged it. Sharko, grateful of the show of affection, licked Leftera’s face and forehead. It then, looking over her shoulders, gave the commissar a grimacing look, showing its big teeth. After that the dog hid its snout under Leftera’s armpit.

“Comrade Political Commissar,” Leftera said in a soft voice. “Look how nice he is, pat him at least once and he will love you, you will see. Here, give him a piece of bread, he will get your scent and he will love you...”

“Leftera, you must be crazy! A dog loving me? You must be nuts. I told you to get rid of the dog!” replied the commissar.

“Yes, I heard what you said, but no one has ordered it!” replied Leftera.

The entire platoon loved Sharko. The dog had grown up with them. It followed the platoon wherever it went. But when the dog ran into the political commissar it barked a strange, whiny bark. Occasionally the dog ran from trench to trench, digging with its paws here and there while looking at the fighters and reading their facial expressions. The dog would look people in the eye with a quizzical look and if a person did not look back and smile, the dog would bark at them with an angry bark. It was comical watching it perform its act. Everyone wanted to pat it, scratch it under its ears and give it a crumb of bread just to see it show a cheerful expression, wag its tail and try to lick them on their face. The dog knew how to act, how to get their attention and how to make them laugh. It also knew what to do when the shooting started. When shots were fired or when shells were coming down, the dog would run into a trench or into a bunker and hide in a corner close to Leftera. In time it became used to cannon, mortar, machine gun, and rifle fire. When the shooting ended the dog would run from trench to trench and bark at the fighters.

The next morning the dog was gone. Leftera kept calling it and calling it but nothing. Others joined in and began to shout the dog’s name and still no dog. Stavre, a fighter next to Leftera’s trench, suspected that the political commissar may have had something to do with the dog’s disappearance.

“Leftera,” Stavre said with a sarcastic look on his face, “it would appear that your Sharko may be six feet under...”

Leftera did not like Stavre so she ignored him. His co-fighters could not stand him either. He was always making his rounds in command, whispering, secretly looking around and pointing with his eyes… He was also sick all the time. He always wore a scarf around his neck and complained to everyone about his sore throat and about his teeth hurting.

“Leftera… Did you hear me? I said that your Sharko…” Stavre said before he was interrupted by Leftera who hissed “be quiet!” at him and mentioned the day, last year in June, when Stavre was mobilized.

His grandmother, a short and stooped over old women, went on the stage and the first partisans she met she asked: “Hey, sons, who here is your superior?”

“That guy over there,” one of them replied and pointed at a man in an officer’s uniform.

“You mean the guy wearing all those belts?” she said and walked over towards him.

“Are you the one, my son? Are you the Captain? The leader?” she asked the uniformed man.

The man looked at her strangely from head to toe and said: “I guess I am. Why?”

The old woman looked around and when she saw that no one was looking, she whispered: “Down here, down here, let grandma tell you something… Please don’t take my grandson…”

“And why not?” asked the man.

The old woman raised herself to her tip toes, put her hand on her mouth and whispered in the man’s ear: “He pees… He pees his bed…” She then quietly looked around to make sure no one heard and again said: “He pees you know… he pees his bed…” and then wiped her tears.

The man suddenly stood up straight, looked at her sternly and said: “What??!!”

“He pees… he pees his bed, he pees his bed covers… everything…” she replied.

“So what if he pees!” replied the man angrily. “The mountains and forests here are large and wide. Let him pee wherever he wants... As long as he does not pee on my carpet?!

The old woman told her neighbour about this in confidence and then her neighbour, in confidence, told everyone else in the village...

Stavre was no hawk that flew high. He was always grounded even before his first combat experience. But he was good at singing and dancing and was always willing to do favours like fetching a canteen of water, lighting a cigarette, especially for the higher ranks like the commanders and the political commissar. But they too could not tolerate his antics. One day, when they were returning from combat, while taking a rest, Mita approached him, sat next to him and said: “I have never met a stranger person than you, Stavre, in my entire life.”

She paused for a moment, looked him in the eye and said: “Why can’t you understand Stavre what’s happening all around you? The grass is getting greener, the flowers are blossoming, the leaves are shaking in the wind, the swallows are flying all around you, the nightingales are singing, the brooks are flowing with crystal clear water, the bees are buzzing everywhere, the mint is emitting aroma and you comrade Stavre, you continually inform on us to the political commissar, you tell him about who said what… spying and informing on your own people… bragging left, right and centre about how we are allegedly destroying the enemy… and all the while you are destroying us, your own people… like we shouldn’t exist… Do you think we don’t exist? Did you not see yesterday that half our platoon was left out there hanging on the barbed wire? Do you think that no one else but you is the hero in this unit?”

Iani, of course, never did tell anyone about what happened during the first battle. When the fighters returned from battle they could not find Stavre. They thought he had deserted. But he hadn’t. When Mita went to relieve herself in the bush, she saw Stavre in the brook, washing his underwear. She told only Leftera and Iani about this and since then she had always avoided him.

“Hey, hey, people…” a man yelled, pointing with his hand. “Look, hey, look over there!”

There he was, Sharko, a hundred or so metres away, lying on the ground in wide open space.

“Sharko! Here Sharko. Come here boy. Sharko come here!” yelled Leftera in desperation. But all Sharko could do was turn his head and howl in pain...

“Leftera! Are you going to get Sharko?” asked Stavre.

“Me?” she replied.

“Now, go and get him!” said Stavre.

Bent forward as far as she could bend, to avoid being shot by the enemy in the open, Leftera jumped over the trench.

“Where do you think you are going?” she heard a voice yelling.

“Silence!” she yelled and crawled towards Sharko. She looked ahead and with her head bent down she kept going. She stopped. She was motionless. Many heads popped out of the trenches and anxiously looked on. Many heads popped out of the trenches on the other side of the hill and they too anxiously looked on. There was complete silence. Leftera raised her head slightly and resumed moving towards Sharko. Sharko made a sound, stuck out his tongue, lifted his leg and began to limp towards her. She grabbed the dog and pressed it against her chest. Sharko yelped slightly and stuck his head under her chin.

“Bravo! Bravo!” there was a lot of yelling and hand clapping from both sides of the hill. Some even fired a few rifle shots into the air in honour of Leftera’s bravery. Sharko hid his head under Leftera’s arm.

When the field medics and stretcher carriers came to pick up the wounded that evening they also took Sharko. They tied a rope around his neck and one of the women dragged him behind her while Sharko, hopped along limping behind her, looked back, as if wanting to say: “Who is going to lick your faces now?”