Opening Moves

One US staff officer tried to climb up onto the M26 and suddenly howled with pain and jumped back. Sucking on a finger, he complained to the Captain with him that he had broken a nail.

Two other men, one English, the other Russian, drifting away from unsatisfactory company now stood together close by and exchanged glances. Although they spoke no words, their eye contact spoke silent volumes and they shared a professional smile.

To date, generals and crony’s apart, there had been little mixing but, with the awkward silence broken by the American officers misfortune, the two struck up a conversation.

The Englishman saluted, which the Russian smartly returned, and stuck out his hand.

“Good day to you Colonel. John Ramsey, Major, The Black Watch, 51st Division.”

“Comrade Major,” acknowledged the Colonel with the slightest of grins and shook the offered hand firmly. Ramsey’s relief at finding an English speaker was very evident. “Colonel Arkady Arkadyevich Yarishlov, Red Army Tank Corps.”

With a swift toss of the head Ramsey ventured “Two different types of officer here today Sir.”

“Yes, I agree. Let us hope his nail to be fine in the morning Major.”

Ramsey had always thought of the Russians as a humourless lot, so the comment caught him unprepared and he laughed aloud.

“Indeed Sir, or the division will grind to a halt.”

“I think it will have done so already Major.”

And so the professionals broke the ice at the expense of the amateurs and walked by some unspoken agreement to a more private place, strolling silently along a small well-worn path until stopping adjacent to a large rock.

“You speak excellent English Colonel. Cigarette?” Not the first time Arkady had been told that, and always in such a way as it seemed a question as to how.

He was happy to supply the answer.

“Thank you Major. When I was in Military Academy, I were tasked to draw up a total presentation on the Battle of Waterloo. I had to learn English to read the books. Do you know of this battle Major?”

The unintended humour of that question timed with a deep draw on his cigarette caused Ramsey to cough violently.

“I am aware of it Colonel. We and our German cousins gave the frogs a damn good hiding as I recall.”

“I’m sorry Major. Frogs? I do not… err… understand.”

“Ah so sorry. It is our pet name for our French allies, Colonel.”

“Ah yes, I remember now. But why?”

“Something to do with their culinary habits I understand.”

Unfortunately, that was also wasted on Yarishlov.

“What is culin-airey Major?”

“I was talking about the things they eat Sir. Rumour has it they eat bits of frogs, such as the legs, Colonel.”

“A uncivilised nation indeed Major, and my apologies.”

No matter how many times it happened Ramsey could never get used to it. Yarishlov came to full attention and saluted the British Major because of the small piece of ribbon on his left breast.

The salute returned, Ramsey ventured “Thank you Colonel. I suppose that you also learned of that little custom from your English studies?”

“I study some more than Waterloo, Major. You are the first VC medal man I have see”.

Within the British and Commonwealth forces, any holder of the VC was saluted first, regardless of rank, as an acknowledgement of the importance of the award.

“There are a few about Sir, certainly a number more since all the unpleasantness started in thirty-nine. You are not without your own awards I see. I suppose we also know that we wear them because we were fortunately seen to do what we did or were just plain lucky, and that countless others who deserve the same went without recognition.”

Yarishlov did not ask about the words he didn’t understand because he identified with the spirit of what he knew the Englishman was saying.

“Yes you are right; mine each having memories, all of which are bad but they also remind me of comrades and friends I have bury.”

A second of silence and a slow knowing nod, “Yes Colonel, I know exactly what you mean”.

A nod was returned. Surprisingly the following silence was not awkward, just two men in inner reflection, with understanding of the others experiences and both with their own private hells.

Ramsey broke the moment.

“I think we might get back to the group now Sir. It seems that a decision has been reached. End of business for today by the look of it”.

Yarishlov swivelled to stare uphill and turned back to Ramsey with a beaming smile on his face. “Good. I have had enough of watching these American tanks now. It has been good to meet you Major Ramsey, and I wish you luck for the future.”

“As I do to you Colonel Yarishlov. I hope our future is brighter than some people seem to think.”

As Yarishlov had started to move, this comment brought him to an immediate halt.