Chapter 5

My wound healed quickly, and by the third day after the surgery, I was able to get out of bed and walk around. At first, I only walked a few slow laps around the room with Vera's support. After two more days, I no longer relied on Vera and could walk independently, though I walked quite slowly. Sometimes, I couldn't control my pace and walking too fast still caused my wound to throb with pain.

Apart from chatting with Vera every day, my only pastime was to pace back and forth in the long hospital corridor. When I didn't feel like walking and Vera was unavailable, I would go to the hospital cafeteria to listen to the radio.

The radio often broadcast speeches by famous people, who, through their speeches, poems, and stories, called on everyone to "persevere! The most important thing is to persevere!" Sometimes, music replaced the speeches, but for some reason, the amount of music broadcast decreased day by day.

The Soviet intelligence bulletin announced that intense battles were taking place on all fronts, but it was difficult to determine exactly where they were happening. The bulletin mainly reported individual battle scenes, mostly about the heroic deeds of infantry, pilots, and sailors, as well as the activities of guerrillas behind enemy lines, without specifying the locations of these achievements or the names of the commanding officers.

Sometimes, the broadcaster would read out the confessions of German prisoners of war, which clearly showed the anti-war sentiment among German soldiers, including many officers. They were very disillusioned with the war and had lost all hope of victory, believing that Hitler was about to be finished. For me, a time traveler, these broadcasts were nothing more than wishful thinking. Thinking about the real situation, where the German army was approaching Moscow and encircling Leningrad, I felt extremely uneasy.

When I returned from the cafeteria after listening to the broadcast, the doctor who was treating me was making his rounds. I couldn't help but ask, "When can I be discharged?"

The doctor replied that if everything continued to go smoothly, in about ten days, I could be reviewed by the committee. Once they confirmed that I had fully recovered, I could be discharged.

As soon as the doctor left, I tried to move my body. Bending my waist caused almost no pain, but when I tried to straighten up quickly, the wound felt like it was being stabbed by an electric shock...

Lying on the bed, I thought painfully about another day of inactivity. I absentmindedly glanced at the slightly open door, secretly hoping that Vera would come over soon to chat with me.

At that moment, the door opened, and Vera walked in, followed by a dozen people. In the dim light, I immediately recognized them as high-ranking officers. The officer right behind Vera had a red diamond-shaped collar with two stars on it—ah! It was a major general! I was startled and quickly sat up, extending my legs off the bed, fumbling to put on the worn slippers provided by the hospital. I then stood by the bed, staring blankly at the group of officers.

"Lida," Vera said, "Comrade Marshal has come to visit you."

"Marshal?!" I couldn't believe my ears. A Soviet marshal would come to visit me, an unknown soldier? I felt at a loss and stammered, "Which marshal?"

"Of course, it's Marshal Voroshilov!" Vera's tone was slightly displeased, as if she was annoyed that I didn't know the current commander of the Leningrad Front, Marshal Voroshilov.

"Hello, Comrade Lida!" Voroshilov stepped out from behind the major general and said in a loud, resonant voice, "I heard from Colonel Korolyov, the chief of staff, that you performed exceptionally well in battle..."

"I serve the Soviet Union!" I forced down my nervousness and blurted out. Only then did I notice that Voroshilov was extending his hand to me. I forgot to salute and hurriedly took a step forward, tripping on my worn slippers, and grabbed the marshal's hand.

"Announce it, General Cherevichenko," the marshal turned to the major general beside him and said.

General Cherevichenko pulled out a document from his pocket and began to read it aloud: "To recognize the outstanding achievements of Sergeant Mushtakova Osharina in the air defense station and her brave performance in the battle against the German army, she is hereby awarded the Order of the Red Banner and the Medal of Courage. Headquarters of the Leningrad Front. September 3, 1941."

The marshal took the two gleaming medals from the officer beside him and pinned them on my hospital gown. He then extended his hand again to shake mine, congratulating me. He then asked, "Do you have any requests? I can personally arrange for someone to help you."

"I want to return to the front lines," I said, unable to think of any other requests worth mentioning. This was the most ordinary and easiest request to make.

Voroshilov paused for a moment and asked Vera, who was standing beside him, "Nurse, can Lida be discharged now?"

"Not yet," Vera said without any nervousness in front of the marshal. "She needs at least another week of rest."

"I understand," he nodded, gently patting my shoulder. "Comrade Lida, the nurse says you can't be discharged yet. You should stay in the hospital for another ten days. I will personally send someone to take you back to the front lines in ten days."

"Let's say goodbye now," the marshal shook my hand again and turned to leave, followed by the group of officers.

Ten days later, a young lieutenant came to the hospital to find me, saying that he was sent by the headquarters of the Leningrad Front to take me to the air defense command. He also brought me new military uniform, a military ID, and a transfer order.

When I put on the new uniform, I noticed that the collar had the insignia of a sergeant. I quickly asked the lieutenant, "Lieutenant, is there a mistake with the uniform? I am a corporal, but this is a sergeant's collar."

The lieutenant looked at it and said without hesitation, "No, I checked your military ID and transfer order before I came. They both state that you have been promoted to sergeant. Congratulations!" He extended his hand to shake mine in congratulations.

After we arrived at the air defense command on the banks of the Neva River, the lieutenant took me to the duty room and handed me over to a warrant officer on duty before leaving.

The warrant officer led me to an office on the second floor, where I met the personnel chief, an older bald major. I quickly took out my ID and transfer order from my uniform pocket and handed them to him. He took them, frowned, and flipped through them, then read the transfer order again. He said, "Currently, the German air raids are intense, and our air defense forces are short-handed. We need personnel in all jurisdictions. Where would you like to go?"

"Can I return to the 171st air defense station?" I asked cautiously.

"The 171st air defense station? It's not in our jurisdiction," he said, though he didn't oppose it. I knew I couldn't go back there.

"Where can I go, then?"

"Go to Pulkovo Heights. It is the shield protecting Leningrad and is bombed by the German air force every day. The air defense forces there are very weak."

"Alright," I said decisively. "I will go wherever I am assigned."

"Okay, in twenty minutes, there will be a truck delivering ammunition to Pulkovo Heights. You can ride with that truck. Go to the duty room now and find the warrant officer who will arrange it for you."

"Yes," I saluted the major and turned to leave the room.