Red Sunset --- Chapter 4: Buckaroo!

Sidorov is judge at the court martial of a pedophile.

Captain Sidorov's thoughts...

Dimitri woke me up and indeed commented on the smell in my room. I rose from the blanket-less bed, feeling dog-tired as I sensed I had something important to do and tried to remember what it was.

Minutes later, I was clean shaven and sat in my put-together uniform on the court-martial jury along with Rodionov and General Tatischev, who seemed flattered by the token office where he was, on paper, the highest-ranking officer. He nonetheless sat at Rodionov's left while I sat at the Kommissar's right, thus marking the true hierarchy.

The court martial was to be held in a drawing room on the main floor. Sentries I knew well stood at the door, with more ghost sentries lining the walls in the form of 15th-century armours that looked German in style, with elegant slender shapes, a round helmet that looked a bit like a chess bishop and extensive fluting—gothic armours that warmly reflected the lamps while the sky outside was of a brightening grey. The sentries were Sergei and Vladimir, two of my men who were there in Austria two years ago. A grandfather clock chimed at quarter past five while my eyelids were still heavy, although I was glad to be out of my room, still heavy with the lingering smell left by the Lithuanians. I heard steps and was glad the proceeding would soon begin. I was starving and couldn't wait to go and have a hefty breakfast.

The accused had to be helped to walk. He was clearly in pain. Dimitri was the one helping him as the "friend of the accused". Several soldiers marched in in his wake. He still wore his uniform, but the spot on his shoulder where Lithuania's shield used to be was empty now, since his mates had ripped off the scarlet badge where a knight in armour stood with his sword high on a prancing white horse. Then there was a loud commotion were a man kept shouting and yelling in Lithuanian. I smiled. Lieutenant Malinovski had found the note I had left for him at his door. The note was simple.

Take Kürschner with you and go arrest Sergeant Botkus. Bring him to the court martial and trust me for the rest. Burn this note!

So there was the old bastard, Sergeant Butkus whose eyes were ablaze with rage! He was being easily restrained by Kürschner who "kindly" saw him into the room as I leaned and spoke to Rodionov about the matter.

"Send him to jail and forced labour, and I'll have full control of the Lithuanians," I whispered. Then I stated the "charge". Butkus had been caught in the room of Countess Hendrikoff in the act of taking liberties with said Countess, in addition to assaulting and beating her maid Claire de Lavoisier.

"The brigand!" Tatischev ejaculated after Rodionov apprised him of Butkus's "shameful conduct".

"We shall proceed with this new matter forthwith!" Rodionov bellowed. "And you, piece of slime, quiet!" he added to the bearded pedophile who wouldn't stop whimpering in his chair, for the man had obviously been tortured. I would later learn he had been emasculated using a not-so-well sharpened knife, so the process was longer and that much painful. He had then been cauterized, little by little, using a red-hot poker. Simple and effective punishment for the monster who was already as good as dead.

"Sergeant!" Rodionov thundered. "I have just been told you've been in Citizen Hendrikoff's quarters and taken your liberties with her person. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty! It's..." Butkus replied immediately in bad Russian, and then, upon hearing Sergeant Kürschner translating Rodionov's words, he shouted angrily at us.

"Shut up!" bellowed Rodionov. "So, you claim you're not guilty. Well, Lieutenant Malinovski and Sergeant Kürschner caught you red-handed, didn't they? Guilty as charged!"

"Guilty!" I added, then looked at Tatischev past the Kommissar at my left. It was a fine long table with refined woodwork. Another privilege for us officers.

"Guilty! And this filthy criminal should hang!" the paper General said.

"So, hanging is proposed here by our third judge. I say forced labour for six years should do. What about you, Sidorov?"

"Oh, the Sergeant is a good soldier at heart and a staunch Bolshevik! I suggest he be held in arrest for two weeks and then transferred to another unit, perhaps in the Soviet Army of the Don?"

"Fine suggestion, yes very good!" Rodionov said.

"But he shall hang! He raped a Countess!"

"Shut up, old baboon!" Rodionov yelled at the old-world Count and General. "Now, taking consideration for our combined suggestions, the sentence will be as followed—Sergeant Butkus will be sent to eastern Siberia for a full year of forced labour so he can think of and correct his bad behaviour. After this formality, he shall be reintegrated to his former unit. With the rank of Corporal."

Butkus strangled himself with fury once Kürschner, grinning, had translated the sentence for him. The old balding Lithuanian was beside himself with rage. Much frothing slobber was exiting his enraged yelling mouth and I would have found it quite interesting, in a morbid way, to see such profusion of slobber exiting his wide open mouth when he would have taken his pleasure inside the Countess during the boat trip, but this was not to be. He was out of the trip and out of the way, just as I wanted.

"Behave yourself, Corporal! Consider yourself fortunate you're not to be hanged. Sergeant, Lieutenant, escort this brigand to jail and take one red triangle off his collar!"

The demoted Sergeant was thus escorted away by Kürschner and Milnokov and still vociferating and protesting in the strongest terms, all in his native tongue as he was too uneducated to know proper Russian. Good riddance! I was beaming and no longer tired. Quite refreshed in fact. A servant brought us spicy chai. Rodionov offered me a dash of cognac to warm it up with. He did not show such courtesy to Tatischev, reminding him where his true place was. Rodionov spoke again.

"Now, to the main matter of this court martial... judging here-named (he read from a paper) Ma..., Matas Ka...-Karosas, Matas Karosas. Matas, stand up!"

The tortured man painfully rose from the simple wooden chair he had been made to sit on, directly in front of us three judges. Alone with Dimitri standing next to him. Dimitri once more helped him to stand. The man was average in size. He was ghastly pale and thus his beard looked ink black. "A weak man trying to look strong with a beard," I thought. Only a weak man would hurt a child.

"Not so brave now, scoundrel!" Rodionov yelled, before going forward with the procedure we all knew the future result of. "Matas Karosas, you stand accused of criminally assaulting a poor innocent girl whose age I won't say out loud in fear of offending G... because it's unbelievable. How do you plead?"

"—G... Guilty," answered the pedophile in tolerable Russian.

"You shall address me as 'Komrade Judge', scoundrel! So you plead guilty. At least you don't show the audacity of pleading not guilty, at least you show the good taste of speaking Russian. I shall take that into consideration upon sentencing you. Since you're pleading guilty, we shall now proceed to sentencing. Tell me, scoundrel, what would be a fair sentence for what you did to this poor child?"

"I—I think..."

"Think very carefully," Rodionov said, "but get it done quickly. I'm hungry and I do not wish my breakfast to go cold on the account of a pedophile."

"I would take one year in forced labour, then permanent exile over there in East Siberia."

"So you think we should let you live? After what you did? Live in exile? Where you will assuredly go on and prey on the children over there? A year! Just one year! You must be joking!"

"I think we should be lenient, Kommissar," I said.

"Lenient?! Lenient! Sidorov, now you are joking!"

"I mean we shall offer him the leniency of a quick death, since the accused pleads guilty. I say we shall execute him by firing-squad."

"No leniency for the monster!" Tatischev exploded, striking his fist against the pine table. "We should burn him alive!"

"Tatischev, behave!" Rodionov scolded him. "Take care of our furniture, or it is you who will stand before the court martial. We already decided on the sentence yesterday evening. Fire-squad it shall be. We owe it to the Lithuanians; they're all so angry that one of their own did such an abomination! None of the eight soldiers will be given blanks to fire as they won't have any remorse. They all requested the privilege of firing two shots in the accused."

The accused, who heard everything, became so white you could almost see through him. The Kommissar pronounced the sentence and made it official as the proceeding was typed with military efficiency by a pretty girl wearing a Bolshevik uniform and wearing on her collar a lone red square that said she was an officer. As I watched her typing, I couldn't help but feeling drawn to her figure and start to think of what would happen to her if a force of White soldiers stormed and captured this mansion.

Dimitri, who had most likely suggested him to plead guilty, helped the condemned to stand as the sentence was pronounced. The man broke down in tears and began to sob in spasms of terror as he heard he was to be shot and the sentence was to be carried out immediately. He was firmly restrained and brought outside in the front courtyard that usually was our parade square, but today it was an execution square where the eight Lithuanians forming the firing squad already stood there in a line, at ease, their rifles loaded, along with Lieutenant Malinovski who stood proud with his sabre proudly out of its scabbard. I could tell the Lieutenant loved any occasion to actually use his sabre. I was later informed that each one of these eight Lithuanians had won the privilege of being there by playing cards last night. Sergeant Kürschner now stood by near me a few paces behind the firing squad.

The condemned was tied up with ropes, firmly, by Lithuanians who spat in his face, at a post of cedar that had just been planted into the ground for this purpose. The firing-squad stood only ten feet away. He was offered no head cover and began to wail again and plead for his life, begging forgiveness and stating he loved little girls a bit too much.

"Stand at, atten-shion! Present, rifles!" the sabre-waving Lieutenant barked.

The condemned reverted in his native Lithuanian and kept begging while pitifully sobbing.

"Take, aim! —FIRE!"

The eight shots crackled together. The man shrieked in complete agony and his groin went all red and wet on his khaki trousers. He was still alive! Blood was dripping down from his crotch as he squirmed out of control inside his bonds and kept shrieking, while a distinctive smell arose and started to overwhelm the fading whiffs of gunpowder—He had lost control of his bowels.

They had all shot him in the groin! His shrieks went on, lingering and met with no shred of pity. The Lieutenant waited. The soldiers all looked at their former mate, waiting for the order before firing their second bullets. Time lingered on. The man kept screaming and started to beg his fire-squad to shoot him and put an end to his agony.

"FIRE!"

The shots all crackled again and the man was shaken in a horrific trance, his groin all covered in blood that soaked the khaki of his trousers. One of his knees was slightly bent the wrong way and was also soaked in blood—One of the men, if not two, had shot him there.

The man was still not dead. Lieutenant Malinovski gave no sign of pulling out his pistol and walking to the man and finishing him off. I began to pity the man, yes, even him. I stood no more than twenty feet away.

"POW!"

I had cleared leather and shot the man through the head. I was putting my Nagant back in its holster while my lone shot still echoed against the nearby houses, when the Lithuanians realized that the man was dead and it was me who had fired the shot. It was time the man was properly executed.

"Buckaroo!" one of the Lithuanians exclaimed.

"Buckaroo! Buckaroo!" Another one exclaimed. Before long, all eight men were saying it, my new nick-name. The rest of their platoon, who stood at ease further back with all four Corporals in front, also began to chant it. From then on, I would be known as Komroty "Buckaroo" Sidorov to the entire platoon of Lithuanians. They held skilled shooting in very high esteem and were now worshiping me!

"Right between the eyes!" exclaimed Sergeant Kürschner upon checking the corpse. "Plump in the middle, and a clean hole!"

"We'll dump this sack of shit outside the town and leave it for the crows," ordered the Kommissar, who stood near the mansion's main door while the pretty uniformed girl who had typed the sentence was near him, bending over in the act of retching, and losing her side cap in the process. Her long golden hair came in bright display under the rising sun and had me wondering whether her carpet matched her drapes.

Her khaki skirt did hint at a well-formed bottom and a nice pair of legs. "Sidorov, behave, you're a married man!" I scolded myself. I later learned she had her room on the second floor, next to the grand duchesses in the best-guarded part of the Governor's house.

"Buckaroo! Buckaroo!"

"Lieutenant Malinovski, give these men two glasses each of prime-quality vodka, you know, the bottles kept for officers only; they deserve it!" I ordered.

"Yes, Komroty!"

I was then informed my breakfast was ready and the Kommissar insisted on having breakfast along with myself. General Tatischev had gone back to the retinue's house, where he was most certainly in the act of consoling Countess Olga Hendrikoff. She was a very tried woman indeed.

My nostrils still intoxicated by adrenaline-inducing gunpowder, I treated myself to a hefty breakfast of pirojkis, bliny and Polish-style sausages. This with fine chai and even finer coffee. This was a very good day. May was my favourite month of the year.