Calls of War

• Stephanie Holm
• Short Story
• 2004

May 11, 2045
51 Livonia Avenue
Chita,
Russia

Dear Nikita
I am sending the following letter to inform you about what has been happening around my house lately.
* * *
All hope and happiness have been drained away. The war has just about ended, but the horrible pictures will stay with me forever.
Bodies lie dead and covered with blood in the middle of the street. Even worse is stumbling across an arm or leg as you walk to school. The clean-up has begun, and I don’t envy the people who have that job. All the bodies will be taken away for identification, hardly any of them will be able to be identified though.
School during the war was torturous, sitting at your desk for six hours listening to the teachers. It is just as bad for them, not knowing if their loved ones are all right, waiting all day dreading The Call.
* * *
On the very first day of the war my teacher – Miss Katukha – got The Call. No one knew what it was then but we didn’t want to find out. Just before recess break one of the office ladies came racing into our room and said there was an urgent phone call for Miss Katukha, they conversed quietly for a moment, then Miss hurriedly ran out of the room and the office lady stayed with us. Miss Katukha didn’t return for the rest of the day.
The next day Miss Katukha was there again, but she wasn’t her usual cheery self. She wore no make-up. There were bags under her eyes and she had tear stains that ran down her face, it looked as though she had been up all night crying. Rumours were flying around school about what had happened, but I didn’t believe any of them. The bell to signal the start of class rang and I hurried to our room. As soon as we were all seated (there were a lot less of us at school than yesterday) Miss told us what had happened:
‘I am very sorry about not returning to teach you yesterday, but I was too upset to do so. The officer in charge of my husband’s unit in the army rang the school to tell me that he had died in action.’ Miss sat in her chair and broke down again. Miss Katukha hadn’t been married very long, only about two months.
We didn’t know what to do. We kids didn’t come to school to handle this sort of stuff, so we all stayed silent and looked down at our hands or at the walls (all the windows in the school had been boarded up as a safety precaution) until she had stopped crying. We heard her push back her chair and stand up.
‘I am better now. Sorry’ Miss had just started to write today’s work up on the blackboard when another office lady appeared at the door.
‘There has been a phone call for a Tatiana Romanoff. Will she please bring her bag and come to the office right away?’ the office lady announced. She looked around the class for Tatiana, finally setting her eyes upon a small dark skinned girl with brown eyes and matching plaits. Tatiana stood slowly, gathered up her bag and followed the lady. Everybody’s eyes – including Miss Katukha’s – were fixed on her. They knew what was coming and so did she.
The day passed extremely slowly Tatiana didn’t return to class, I didn’t think she would. At lunch break my friends, Lara and Petra, actually saw her climb into her car, crying, with her sister and mother and drive away. After school I waited for Anna and Martina with whom I usually walk home. When Anna came alone I knew something was wrong. She must have read my mind because she said:
‘Martina got one of those calls and her mum came and picked her up.’ We waited for a safe bell to ring, signaling it was safe to walk home, and then left. I didn’t talk much that afternoon because the look on Anna’s face was too sad. She was normally so talkative and happy but this afternoon she was too worried about Martina.
I reached my house and said bye to Anna as her house was further up the road. At the time I didn’t realize I was never going to see her again.
Every morning it was getting riskier and riskier to walk to school. Today was the worst yet. I had to be extremely careful and stop and look around each corner to make sure it was safe and there were no airplanes flying overhead.
There were so few people at school today that there were no normal classes. Instead we were all just shoved into one room with a teacher and watched videos all day. We ate recess and lunch in the classroom as it was deemed to risky to eat outside.
Every now and then an office lady would appear and ask for a particular student as there was a phone call for them. The people who got called went pale as death. One girl whose name was called started crying and as she walked out the door fainted. Every time I listened and hoped it wasn’t for me. I was one of the lucky ones.
At the end of the day only twelve of the twenty students remained. I walked home with a guy who lived up the road from me. We had to wait an extra hour before a safe bell rang so we could walk home. While we were walking he told me it was getting too risky and that he wasn’t going to school in the morning. I agreed.
I arrived home safely, and spent the afternoon with my younger sister and brother, and mum (dad was away serving the army). In the evening we watched the news on T.V and then listened to the radio gathering all the information we could. I didn’t sleep much that night. I was too worried about dad and the only time I did fall asleep I had nightmares about him getting killed.
The next day I didn’t go to school and I don’t think anyone else did either.
* * *
Dad is due to arrive home some day soon, which is something positive amongst all the negative stuff that’s been going on lately.
The war has changed us all, especially me. For one thing my family and I are much closer, but also my family and I now live each day as though we’re not going to be around for the next.
Love always,
Natasha

P.s. Please write back as soon as you can!