Ascent

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TWENTY MILLION COUNTRYMEN died in the Great Patriotic War and his whole family was among them.

His bare feet left footprints in the dirt as the men led him from the farm. Then they set the ruined buildings alight. What had been his life to this point vanished into smoke.

Rain began to fall. The boy watched it puddle the dirt. It obliterated his footprints and, while he waited, the wheels of passing carts and trucks cut swaths in the muddy road, but in time the rain also wiped these away.

He travelled to the ruined city in a farm lorry with his only possessions in a sack. From factories came the pounding of metal. The noise passed up from the earth like a groan.

By the time they reached the orphanage, night had fallen. The other boys watched him being led into the mess hall. He was big for his age, so therefore a target. There was only time for a bowl of broth, then it was lights-out.

Frost glistened on the window panes, but the oil ration went to the factories so the stoves at each end of the dormitory remained unlit. He was accustomed to the silence of the countryside, but in the city the pounding of machines continued through the night. There was so much to repair, so much to rebuild.

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