General Fiction posted November 3, 2025

Chapters:

...32 33 -34-

tfawcus

Tony Fawcus, ex-RAF Navigator and Junior School teacher, spent 22 years living on South Australia's Fleurieu Peninsula where he ran a small farm and a B&B cottage before his recent move back to Adelaide.

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The Dossier

A chapter in the book Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate

Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate: 34

by tfawcus

Background
Dmitri, who is trying to join Leila in Turkiye, has been arrested as a spy. He doesn't realise she never left Ukraine and is on her way to Kalynorad, hoping to find him.

Colonel Vadym Melnyk was irritated, having been drawn from more important business to interrogate these two boys. He was a precise and intelligent man and had already concluded they were not spies, a conclusion he considered should have been obvious to Lieutenant Hrytsenko without having to call on him to confirm it.

Nonetheless, he had a quietly sadistic streak and decided to amuse himself at Oleh's expense, putting him through the grinder for over an hour and making much of the fact that the poor lad had the same surname as the famous Russian general, Marshal Georgy Zhukov. He was genuinely interested in finding out why the boy was heading for Kramatorsk, a town of strategic importance not far from the front line, and he was not entirely convinced by the reasons Oleh gave. There was a sufficient shred of suspicion for him to instruct Hrytsenko to hold the boys for a few more days while his underlings in military counterintelligence investigated their backgrounds more fully.

It didn't take them long to ascertain that Dmitri had been born in Kalynorad, that his father had been killed on active service, and that his sister had died during a Russian artillery bombardment of the town. It was scarcely necessary for Colonel Melnyk to contact his friend, Major Kolt, for further confirmation, but he was a thorough man and did so anyway.

'Andriy, my dear fellow. We must catch up one day soon, if the war can spare you for an evening. I still remember our last get-together in Kyiv. What a night that was!'

Kolt was immediately on his guard. Colonel Melnyk was unlikely to be contacting him for a social chit-chat. 'It's good to hear from you, Vadym, and congratulations on your promotion. I suppose I shall now have to get used to calling you "sir" and saluting you.'

'Of course. What else? I shall enjoy having the upper hand. Look, I won't waste your time. A simple matter. We have a young man by the name of Dmitri Zahir in detention in Kalynorad. Accused of being a Russian spy. Says he knows you.'

'Are you accusing me of consorting with Russian spies? Really, Vadym, whatever next?'

'No need to be so defensive, my friend. You might make me suspicious.'

'I know him all right. A hot-headed youngster if ever there was one. Got drunk at a dinner party of mine and tried to take a swing at me. So, he made it to Kalynorad, did he? I thought he'd have got himself killed before reaching the halfway mark. Anyone with him?'

'Yes, as a matter of fact.'

'That explains it. She's the level-headed one. Probably kept him out of trouble.'

'She? Oh, no. He was with some long-haired git from Kyiv. Heading your way, as it happens. We're checking up on him. I'm holding them for a couple of days while we make further enquiries. I want to verify a few facts about his travelling companion.'

'Excellent! It will do the boy good to be kept on tenterhooks for a while. Might knock a bit of sense into him. He's got some hare-brained idea of becoming a war artist.'

Colonel Melnyk laughed. 'Well, he'll have plenty of material to work with in the prison compound. Good talking with you, Andriy. And remember, you owe me a bottle of champagne.'

'Oh, really? Why's that?'

'To celebrate my promotion, of course.'

***

After their interrogation, the boys were allowed to mix freely with the other prisoners. These were rumoured to include several of Melnyk's stool pigeons listening out for incriminating conversations. No one knew exactly who or how many there were, but everyone was on their guard. The boys, being recent inmates and relatively unharmed, were treated with particular suspicion and shunned.

They spoke in whispers about their time under interrogation.

'I would have told them anything,' Oleh said. 'It was lucky I had nothing to confess. Nothing at all.' He looked at Dmitri, and his eyes filled with tears. 'I don't think I can stand any more of this. It will drive me insane.'

Dmitri put his arm around his friend's shoulder. 'It's over now. We're innocent, and they will release us. I know they will.'

But Dmitri wasn't as sure as he sounded. He had seen the colonel's eyes as he was being led away. They were merciless. If it suited his purpose to extract a confession, he would extract a confession, and a confession was all he needed to stamp a prisoner's passport to eternity. Yet, what purpose would that serve? They were all on the same side, for God's sake. He prayed for the impossible; that the colonel knew Major Kolt, and that Major Kolt would save him.

The first night was the worst. They were put in a room with three other prisoners. Older men with hollow eyes and gaunt faces. Men who stank of faeces and fear. Men turned in on themselves. Defeated and waiting for death. In this world, there were no miracles, no saviours, and there was no hope. Dmitri stared into the darkness of their souls and shivered. The only hope lay within. He looked across at Oleh and saw the same vacant stare, the same fading spark, the same dying embers of humanity, and he made two decisions. He would not give up, and he would not let his friend give up either.

He was a man now. He had stood in the valley of the shadow of death and survived, and in surviving, he had learnt to fear evil. Not to be subdued by it, but to recognise it and fight against it. He had faced the dawn, and it had blinded him with the knowledge of beauty. In his paintings and drawings, he would depict evil but only in the context of hope. From the charnel house of destruction, there grows a seed, and the seed seeks the sun.

He looked again at the defeated faces of the Russian prisoners, and then at Oleh, whose sunken eyes and pallid skin suggested a deeper wound than gunshot. Where was the hope? Where was the possibility of resurrection? In his heart, he knew the answer. He lay back and fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

Three days dragged by, during which time Oleh gradually became worse. He had developed a racking cough and complained of feverish chills. On the third morning, Dmitri took his own blanket and added it to Oleh's, and after the Russians had left the room, he took theirs, too. He placed his hand on Oleh's brow. It was hot and damp. Clearly, his night under the stars had taken its toll.

Dmitri leaned over him and whispered, 'Lie still, my friend, you're going to be fine. I shan't be long. I'm going to fetch a doctor.'

Finding a doctor? What was he thinking? Nonetheless, he raced outside. The sun sparkled off a fresh sprinkling of snow, and Corporal Karpov was leaning on a verandah rail, smoking a cigarette, and enjoying the view.

'Corporal, my friend is sick. He needs medical attention.'

'Don't we all? What do you think this is? A sanatorium?'

'But you must help me. He has a high fever. Possibly pneumonia. Without an antibiotic, he may die.'

Karpov pulled on his cigarette and blew smoke in Dmitri's face. 'An antibiotic? Here? You must be joking.'

'Surely you have medical facilities in the camp? Is there nothing you can do?'

Karpov shrugged and turned to go back into the administrative office.

'Wait!' Dmitri shouted. 'I demand to see Lieutenant Hrytsenko!'

'Who is that demanding to see me? What's going on, corporal?' Hrytsenko appeared on the verandah with a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a week.

'Nothing, sir. That Russian spy, Zahir. Says his friend is dying. So, what if he is? It'll save a bullet.'

Lieutenant Hrytsenko had a low opinion of life. It had dealt him too many misfortunes. But he had an even lower opinion of Karpov. 'That's not your decision, corporal. Take him to the sickbay. Get him seen by the doctor. Colonel Melnyk hasn't finished with him yet.'

Corporal Karpov gave him the kind of salute that made it clear he was acknowledging the rank, not the man.

After he had left, Hrytsenko beckoned Dmitri. 'Come into the office, lad. I have something to show you.'

If such a thing were possible, Hrytsenko's office was even more of a disaster area than the man himself. His desk was submerged under a scattering of papers, on top of which lay a buff-coloured folder.

'This came yesterday evening. Colonel Melnyk's men have completed their investigations. Of you, anyway. It seems we have made a mistake. You're free to go.'

'Not without Oleh, sir. I cannot desert him.'

'Commendable, but foolish. The investigation of Oleh Zhukov will take longer. He is not a local. It may take several days to get a report from Kramatorsk, for it is near the front line and communications are irregular. Besides, there is no guarantee that the boy is not a spy. How long have you known him?'

As Dmitri was about to answer, a shout came from outside. 'Lieutenant Hrytsenko! Come quickly, sir. There's been an accident!'

'Stay here, boy. I'll be back soon.' Hrytsenko grabbed his cap and swagger stick and made for the door.

As soon as he was alone, Dmitri picked up the file and thumbed through it. The account of his interrogation bore little resemblance to what had in fact happened, and there was no mention of his ordeal preceding it. However, one piece of information had been highlighted in yellow, and it burned into his brain: Civilian Casualties in the Kalynorad Sector. Mira Zahir, aged seventeen, killed in a missile strike on Kalyna Lane; interred in the Municipal Cemetery, Plot 17.

When Hrytsenko returned, Dmitri asked him ingenuously if he had any information about his sister. 'You see, sir, I was travelling back to Kalinorad to obtain evidence that she had died as a result of the war. I need documentary proof to obtain an exemption so I can travel overseas.'

Hrytsenko was immediately suspicious. 'And why would you be wanting to travel overseas?'

'Because my girlfriend is in trouble in Türkiye, and I need to be with her. Please, sir. It matters more than you can imagine.'

'Really?' Hrytsenko burst out laughing. 'First, a stalwart friend. Now a knight in shining armour. What is this? Are you trying for a sainthood?'

Although his tone was mocking, the lieutenant had a secret admiration for Dmitri. Before the war had wrung such ideals out of him, he too had held similar beliefs. 'Yes, lad. I have that information in the folder in front of me. It came from the local military administration. They can probably issue you a certified copy. I'll get Corporal Karpov to take you into town and show you where it is.'

'No! Please, sir. I feel sure I'll be able to find it myself.'

'Nonsense. The exercise will do him good, and he needs to run an errand for me anyway.'

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Main Characters mentioned in this Chapter:

Dmitri Zahir, a teenage boy hellbent on reuniting with Leila, his true love.
Mira Zahir, his twin sister, who was killed in a bomb attack.
Leila Haddad, the Syrian girl Dmitri has fallen in love with.
Oleh Zhukov, a guitarist that Dmitri met on his way to Kyiv
Colonel Vadym Melnyk, a Ukrainian interrogator
Major Andriy Kolt, an army major who knew Dmitri from Velinkra
Lieutenant Sergei Hrytsenkothe POW Camp Commandant
Corporal Viktor Karpov a prison guard in the Ukrainian army

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