It's all up with me anyway. You can go to hell with your schnapps!
"I put the glass down on the table and the bread with it, and I said:
'Thank you for your hospitality, but I don't drink.'
He smiles.
'So you don't want to drink to our victory?
In that case, drink to your own death.'
What had I got to lose?
'To my death and relief from torment then,' I said.
And with that, I took the glass and poured it down my throat in two gulps. But I didn't touch the bread. I just wiped my lips politely with my hand and said:
'Thank you for your hospitality.
I am ready, Herr Kommandant, you can sign me off now.'
"But he was looking at me sharply:
'Have a bite to eat before you die,' he said.
But I said to him:
'I never eat after the first glass.'
Then he poured out a second and handed it to me.
I drank the second and again I didn't touch the food. I was staking everything on courage, you see.
Anyway, I thought, I'll get drunk before I go out into that yard to die.
And the commandant's fair eyebrows shot up in the air.
'Why don't you eat, Russian Ivan?
Don't be shy!'
But I stuck to my guns:
'Excuse me, Herr Kommandant, but I don't eat after the second glass either.'
He puffed up his cheeks and snorted, and then he gave such a roar of laughter, and while he laughed he said something quickly in German, must have been translating my words to his friends.
The others laughed too, pushed their chairs back, turned their big mugs round to look at me, and I noticed something different in their looks, something a bit softer like.
"The commandant poured me out a third glass and his hands were shaking with laughter.
I drank that glass slowly, bit off a little bit of bread and put the rest down on the table.
I wanted to show the bastards that even though I was half dead with hunger I wasn't going to choke myself with the scraps they flung me, that I had my own, Russian dignity and pride, and that they hadn't turned me into an animal as they had wanted to.
"After that the commandant got a serious look on his face, straightened the two iron crosses on his chest, came out from behind the table unarmed and said:
'Look here, Sokolov, you're a real Russian soldier.
You're a fine soldier.
I am a soldier, too, and I respect a worthy enemy.
I shall not shoot you.
What is more, today our gallant armies have reached the Volga and taken complete possession of Stalingrad.
That is a great joy for us, and therefore I graciously grant you your life.
Go to your block and take this with you for your courage.' And he handed me a loaf of bread from the table, and a lump of bacon fat.
"I gripped that bread to my chest, tight as I could, and picked up the fat in my left hand. I was so taken aback at this unexpected turn of events that I didn't even say thank you, just did a left-about turn, and went to the door.
And all the while I was thinking, now he'll blast daylight through my shoulder blades and I'll never get this grub back to the lads.
But no, nothing happened.
Again death passed me by and I only felt the cold breath of it.
"I got out of the commandant's room without a stagger, but outside I went reeling all over the place.
I lurched into the hut and pitched flat down on the cement floor, unconscious.
The lads woke me up next morning, when it was still dark.
'Tell us what happened!'
Then I remembered what had happened at the commandant's and told them.
'How are we going to share out the grub?' the man in the bunk next to me asked, and his voice was trembling.
Equal shares all round,' I told him.
We waited till it got light.
We cut up the bread and fat with a bit of thread.
Each of us got a lump of bread about the size of a matchbox, not a crumb was wasted. And as for the fat-well, of course, there was only enough to grease your lips with.