It is obvious that in wartime no one has any idea of what will happen the next moment, the next hour, the next day. It makes no sense to think further ahead: today we are alive and tomorrow we may be dead. A man vanishes, goes up in a puff of smoke, and he will be remembered for only a short while by the people who knew him. It is therefore senseless to make plans in wartime, to try to foresee anything. One can only hope and wait, wait and hope; what other choice does one have? Though in their dreams, of course, everyone imagines what peacetime after the war’s end will be like.
As part of their preparations for welcoming the Americans, the Soviets had arranged a special concert. A song-and-dance ensemble had been ferried quickly round to the base, and a troupe of musicians had flown in f
