TRANSCRIPTION
BORIS: The best time to attack is early in the morning. Between five and six, just before dawn. That's the time when it's the most difficult to be clear instantly. Someone who wakes up abruptly is really confused for a moment. That's the very time you have to get them. The fight itself takes no more than, well at the most, three minutes. It's soon over. No more than a count of a 180 seconds to the last bullet.
...twenty-four, ...twenty-five, ...twenty-six...
PSYCHIATRIST: Good, try to tell slowly about what is happening. Where are you? What do you see...?
BORIS:
Thirty-one...
We don't know exactly where the enemy is. Someone goes ahead as a scout. We lie flat on our stomachs, spread under the trees. The earth is wet and my thighs are getting soaked. I make eye contact with my brother who's lying to my right. He's lying so close that I can hear him breathing. I can smell his sweat. We're lying in a row. And it's too dark to make contact to whoever is to my left. I just wait.
...Forty.
And then, bang! It hits me in the eyes. It is a sharp flash that doesn't go away. The scout obviously, has fired off the flare over the enemy's position. My brother, he jumps up, I follow him. My legs are stiff with cold. We come out of the dark, they can't see us. I only hear twigs snapping and someone sniffing. No one shoots.
Seventy-eight...
Now I can see where the flare comes from. So I run forward and there's an open space. It's lighter t here too, there are bodies lying everywhere, in the mud. My brother is standing behind the position. He motions with his arm to where I have to go to. I try to climb over the position. He's already going. I have to cover him. So I just shoot twice just like that. My hands are ice cold and they are trembling. Something near is moving. I take my riffle and slam it in front, I thrust it in someone's neck. The man, he makes a gurgling sound. We look at each other. He's in pain. His throat is rattling. I have to shoot, but I wait. He keeps on looking at me and with his hands he thumbles around on the ground. But he doesn't find a weapon. And I keep on waiting. He gives a loud cough and he crawls backwards. When the distance is almost two metres, I shoot him through the head. For a moment I feel the blood. Tiny warm prickles on my skin.
Ninety-four...
My brother has already reached the next position. I try to catch up with him, because I have to cover him. I run holding my riffle high, but I'm too far away to aim properly. I meanwhile avoiding the mortar holes in the ground. And then it happens. I'm too late. He bends over double. He snaps in the middle. He tries to turn his head to see where I was. He slumps forwards. His face slides into the mud. He is on his knees. I know it at once. When I get to him he's already dead.
Hundred and fourteen...
Well, later the commander said we'd won. We all had to run to get to the bus in time.