Things turned out exactly as Dmitri had predicted, news arrived that the troops were preparing to break out early the next morning.
But it wasn't because Dmitri had convinced Major Gavrilov.
After Major Gavrilov returned to headquarters and delivered an impassioned plea to the instructor, he not only failed to persuade him to break through, he only strengthened the instructor's resolve to hold the position.
"The current situation is very clear, Comrade Artur!" Major Gavrilov said urgently. "If we don't break through now, we may never get another chance!"
"You mean our comrades are still holding out in the central fortress?" the instructor asked, his tone sharp but calm.
"Yes…" Major Gavrilov replied, unsure where this was going.
"So you would leave them behind to break through?" the instructor pressed.
Major Gavrilov froze. Then he understood.
"No! I would never abandon our comrades!" the instructor voice rang stern. "Comrade Major, have you considered that if we succeed in breaking through, the Germans will concentrate all their forces on the central fortress? It would be almost impossible for them to survive. In other words, we'd be cutting off their lifeline single-handedly!"
"But we have no choice…" Major Gavrilov began.
"Of course we have!" the instructor interrupted sharply. "Believe in the motherland, Comrade Major. Believe in our army. The batch of supplies we obtained is enough to sustain us for half a month. Within that time, our army will counterattack, push the invaders back, and we will be saved! Don't you see? This is an opportunity to achieve greatness!"
Major Gavrilov realized that the key phrase "achieve greatness." Even in a life-or-death situation, the instructor's mind was focused on heroism, promotions, and glory. If Dmitri had overheard this, he would have known it was unrealistic—the Soviet counteroffensive would not reach Brest for three years.
But Major Gavrilov had no room to argue; he could not convince the instructor and could only sigh.
Originally, he had intended to continue holding the fortress, as instructed. But events were about to change.
Influence came from the central bastion.
The central fortress was in much the same situation as Kobrin. It was commanded by Commissar Fumin and Captain Zubachev. But there were many officers' families inside, and both leaders believed in holding their position. They were cautious partly because of the civilians and partly because they misunderstood the broader situation, thinking the battle was local and that reinforcements would arrive soon.
Until a Soviet warplane appeared overhead.
It was an I-15 biplane fighter. Soldiers in the central fortress cheered loudly, believing their reinforcements had arrived at last.
Before their cheers could die down, two German fighters emerged from the clouds, and the I-15 was shot down in moments.
Fortunately, the pilot parachuted safely and was rescued by the central fortress soldiers.
"Have the reinforcements arrived? Where are they?" Commissar Fumin demanded impatiently.
"Reinforcements?" the pilot said, confused.
"Our army!" Fumin insisted. "Where are they? We need backup!"
The pilot hesitated, then shook his head regretfully. "I'm sorry, Commissar. Our army has already retreated. The Germans hit Baranovich—there are no reinforcements. No one is coming…"
Fumin froze, stunned. But once the truth sank in, the unrealistic hope of waiting for help vanished. The central fortress leaders quickly began planning a breakout.
There was no doubt: the north was the best direction. Not only for the reasons Dmitri had analyzed, but also because Kobrin Fortress to the north was still holding out. Joining forces, the two armies could attempt a coordinated escape.
Signal soldiers were dispatched to Kobrin to coordinate.
---
By early morning, the sun rose over the Bug River, piercing the dense fog with golden light.
Dmitri's eyes opened groggily. He shivered—though it was summer, the night had been cold, barely ten degrees. Sleeping in the trenches with a chilled rifle was no comfort.
Gradually, the other soldiers stirred. They weren't awakened by the sunlight but by the cooks distributing food. No one wanted to miss this.
"Hey, today it's bread!" a fellow soldier exclaimed, surprised.
"Thank Comrade Dmitri!" Pukarev said, nodding toward him. "Thanks to him, we're all able to eat well."
"Thank you for the bread, Dmitri!" others echoed.
The cook, noticing the soldiers' gratitude, secretly added half an extra piece of bread to Shulka's lunch box. "It's an honor to meet you, Comrade Dmitri" he whispered, shaking Dmitri's hand.
"Thank you!" Dmitri replied calmly, accepting the gift.
Before he could even take a bite, intense gunfire erupted.
Dmitri acted immediately. He covered his lunch box, tucked it into his satchel, and grabbed his rifle. Other soldiers dropped their food and assumed battle positions along the trench.
This time, it was different. The gunfire was sporadic, coming from the south—not the Germans.
"It's our comrades from the central fortress!" Okunev whispered. "They're trying to cross the river at night!"
"Looks like they didn't make it…" Dmitri murmured.
But just as Dmitri was about to relax, a small black shape appeared through the thick fog, stumbling toward the trench.