Read Online Diggers by Viktors Duks - Free Book Online

for some of them.
    For me? The Communicator calls me up and says it’s all fine, Russia is waiting for us. The head of the diggers in the Pliskau Region will make a test dig, and if bones come up, those must be the remains of Legionnaires. Let’s go get our boys. See you, girls. Bye, bye nightclubs and bars!
    ***
    April 6, 2000
    Nothing special has happened. The Classicist says that somewhere on the road to the east there’s a guy who’s selling a cannon that was used during the Swedish period (16-17 c). In an antique shop I bought the first part of the memoirs of a Latvian general. On Saturday I’m going to the forest—I’ll take a few pictures. Last night I looked into my archives, now half a year old. I don’t have time to arrange everything. I picked out two pictures of myself to hang on the wall. Then I put them back—one of them my wife would surely throw away.
    ***
    April 8, 2000
    I was out in the forest. I visited Juris, who loves his alcohol—the guy who found those 50 German helmets. Finally I was standing above the T-34 tank. It was a meadow among ancient forests. The spring waters had not yet receded, and the meadow was pretty damp. I didn’t get my sneakers full of water, but as soon as I dug a small hole, it filled up with water. I’ll have to wait for the spring.
    â€œOne night my friend and I went out poaching, and we found that the Home Guard was waiting for us there. We stole away. I ran along one side of the forest, my friend ran along another. I fell into a bunker.”
    My eyes lit up. “Where is it?”
    â€œI can’t find the place, it was night, but the bunker was full of weapons and ammunition.”
    We walked around that pine forest for two hours, trying to find the mossy hole. Of course, we did not find it. Either he was engaging in false braggadocio, or he is simply an idiot. I took him home and went back to the old place. No photographing was possible—the wind blew the sky full of leaden clouds. I turned on the metal detector and tramped into the woods. I found the wings of an exploded mine and then a completely rusty German gas mask. When I got to the place where the pieces of the exploded tank were, I lifted a metal bar out of the ground and did not know what it was. I also found some pieces of armament and a fat rope. Nothing good, but my heart was happy anyway. Once again I was sorry that I had not brought along anything to slake my thirst. My tongue was stuck to my gums and began to crack, and the clock was calling me home.
    ***
    End of April, beginning of May
    The forests are getting green, the radio is warning me about ticks. How horrible! Last week I visited a Legionnaire and a national guerilla. Great guys! I really want to write about them. Lately I’ve been cleaning up my trophies—bullet shells, bullets and the like. I dug partly exploded mines back into the ground. They were pretty, but they were still alive, and I want to be the one who is alive.
    ***
    May 5, 2000
    At eight o’clock in the morning the Communicator got a call from Kurzeme—somebody who had information. At 8:15 the Communicator called the Classicist. At 8:30 the Classicist called me.
    â€œAre you sitting down, boss?” he asked me.
    â€œWhat is it?” He hadn’t said good morning. He continued: “There are tanks. You can touch one with a stick, there are two others that we need a powerful metal detector for. We need to get to Kurzeme as quickly as possible. It would be great if we could do it on May 13th, I’ll be back from a business trip then. Call the Communicator.”
    I got through to the Communicator at 9:30. Everything was GREAT!
    At ten o’clock I was at Skvarceni’s office. I told him everything. His eyes lit up, his heart began to beat faster.
    â€œDid I tell you that the Messerschmidt has been found?”
    â€œGood morning,” I say. “Of course I don’t know anything. Skvarceni