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Jerzy KosińskiA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The boy’s current village is overlooked by a railroad bridge guarded by German soldiers with swastikas on their flags. Gunfire is heard at night, and the peasants speculate about who is winning and losing. Some look forward to the Soviets redistributing the land to the poor. Others fear they “would nationalize everything right down to the wives and children” (172). The peasants dig pits and hide food, distracted from their differences by the ever-nearing battle. The boy likes the idea of communal families, excited that many people would take care of and comfort him. He ponders whether God determines what will happen and asks how God could let either the Germans or the Soviets win, as they both “demolished churches and murdered people” (174).
One day the Germans leave hastily. The next day, a band of Kalmuks—Mongolian nomads who’d settled in Russia and, persecuted by the Russians, joined the German forces—terrorize the village, killing without mercy and brutally raping the women and girls. When they first arrive, the boy is proud that dark men like him inspire fear. However, after witnessing their cruelty, he laments that God must not answer his prayers because he “belonged like them in another world” (178).
The boy’s hiding spot in the bushes is discovered, and a Kalmuk hits him in the chest with his rifle. The boy is injured but manages to make his way to a barn, where he hides with frightened peasants and animals. An explosion occurs; the Kalmuks finally are driven off by Russians. When the boy emerges from the barn, in pain and coughing up blood, he sees that the bridge is gone and that Kalmuks are surrendering to the Soviet soldiers.
The Russians set up camp in the field, and peasants approach them with homemade Russian flags, which are greeted with cheers. A doctor treats wounded peasants; soldiers play with the children. The Russian soldiers have hanged the Kalmuks by their feet, and the peasants gather to look at them, some of the women cursing at those who had raped them.
When a gust of wind moves the bodies in the trees, the boy feels death in the air. Dazed, he moves to the river, where he sees fish killed by the explosions. Shivering, he cautiously approaches the Red soldiers, noticing the Kalmuk who had hit him hanging from a tree.
The boy heals in a regimental hospital and is allowed to stay with the young “untested” (185) soldiers who have camped on the field by the river. Listening to radio reports of Germans defeats, the soldiers doubt they’ll see battle. The boy is content and is taken care of by two soldiers: Mitka, “the Cuckoo,” and Gavrila.
Gavrila teaches the boy to read, and the boy is fascinated by books. He appreciates how “one could conjure up a world as real as that grasped by the senses,” one which, “like meat in cans, was somehow richer and more flavorful than the everyday variety” (186). He finds hope in books, reading, for example, about Maxim Gorky, who led a similarly difficult life before becoming one of Russia’s greatest writers. He also enjoys poetry, which is written like prayers, but for pleasure.
Gavrila also teaches the boy that there is no God, that “cunning priests had invented Him so they could trick stupid, superstitious people” and that God was “for ignorant people who […] did not believe in their own powers” (187). The boy learns that “people themselves determined the course of their lives” (187) and that individuals’ lives are intertwined through their actions. Even more importantly, Gavrila teaches the boy about Stalin, one of the great men who doesn’t wait for divine intervention to help others, and who in his exceptional wisdom and bravery becomes a leader to liberate the persecuted and end corruption and inequality. The boy admires photos of Stalin, who is dark-haired like he is. He laments all the time he spent praying and wonders what happened to his prayers. He thinks about the devastation priests would feel if they knew their prayers were for nothing.
Communist Party members hold meetings in which the Party “rid[s] itself of those who, like a jammed or crooked wheel on a cart, impeded progress” (192). The Party decides a man’s usefulness; a man is considered only as good as others think he is. According to Gavrila, “the individual seemed to have many faces” (193), and the Party works diligently to discover if one had the face of an enemy of the people. The Party also values people from industrial backgrounds over others, and the boy worries over his own origins, overwhelmed by the complicated structure and mores.
Mitka feeds the boy well and comforts him at his medical examinations. He teaches him poetry, sings songs, and plays guitar, and he takes him to see movies at the regimental cinema. Mitka, the admired sharpshooting instructor, is considered a hero and a legend; a fearless, decorated sniper, his accomplishments are the subjects of books and newspaper articles, and his rifle is worshipped by young soldiers “with the reverence of a priest at an altar” (198-99). Having never fully recovered from a bullet wound, Mitka no longer serves as a sniper, and he longs for the days “when he was both judge and executioner” (199). The boy feels proud to associate with him and reveres him for making “a better and safer world” (200).
The soldiers mingle with the peasants, flirting with the women and trading food items, against the wishes of their commanders, who warn that wealthy farmers are in league with nationalists who want “to prevent the approaching triumph of a government of workers and peasants” (197). One day, while attending a village feast, Mitka’s four closest friends are killed by jealous peasants. The incident results in orders forbidding the soldiers to associate with villagers. While the rest of the regiment moves on, Mitka remains devastated.
Mitka wakes the boy one night, and the boy helps him dress and gather his rifle and equipment. They slip out of camp and into the woods, the boy swelling with pride that “a Hero of the Soviet Union” had chosen him for this “mysterious mission” (202). In the forest at the edge of a village, they climb a tree, Mitka fighting through the pain of his injury. After letting the boy look through the binoculars, Mitka adjusts the telescopic sight of the rifle and proceeds to shoot villagers. Other villagers sob over the dead and hide, terrified, in their houses. The boy thinks about how “[m]an carries in himself his own private war,” how he must be “at peace with himself” (206) and how if Mitka had not avenged his friends, he would feel his accolades were undeserved.
The boy sees a dog and is reminded of Judas. He wants Mitka to shoot him, but Mitka refuses. They sneak undetected back to camp, where Mitka returns to his old self. He leads the soldiers in song, the sound of which mingles with the funeral bells of the village.
The boy’s experiences in the village near the river emphasize the arbitrary nature of discrimination. The complicated structure of the Communist Party, with its “many ladders” (193) and “self-purging” of those deemed not pure enough, is confusing and overwhelming to the boy. Continually watched by the Party, a member can be cast out at any time. His “usefulness” is decided by “the collective” (192), measured in no small part by his origin and family background. In this way, “the shadow of their family trailed people relentlessly, just as the concept of original sin hounded even the best Catholic” (192). The boy, unaware of the details of his background, is “filled with apprehension” (193), fearing he’ll be rejected and cast out, just as he is by the peasants. Even God, in the boy’s eyes, judges indiscriminately. Witnessing the depraved violence of the Kalmuks, the boy believes he understands why God doesn’t answer his prayers: he, like the Kalmuks, is dark-haired, and “[t]here could be no mercy for such as me” (178). There is, in other words, evidently no group or culture immune to discrimination of some sort; the superstitious peasants, the Catholics, and the Communists all self-purge in their own way.
Of all the belief systems he encounters, the boy finds Mitka’s most promising: it’s the only one in which individuals are solely responsible for their destinies. Though Gavrila fascinates the boy with his lofty ideals about our interconnectedness, according to Gavrila, “every man is important,” for his actions contribute to the whole just as “apparently random stitches of a woman’s needle contributed to the beautiful floral pattern” (187). In Mitka’s philosophy, the individual is beholden to no one but himself. While “[i]n Gavrila’s world only the Party knew the right paths,”Mitka teaches that “one could also reach the summit alone” (195). Mitka creates his own path regardless of others’ opinions.Unlike Communists, unlike Catholics who collect prayers valued by God, Mitka cares only to be “at peace with himself” (206). It is no wonder that the boy, who has been defined by others since his journey began, so admires Mitka for his personal autonomy.
Mitka’s philosophy is not wholly new to the boy. Mitka is guided by “his own private war, which he has to wage, win or lose, himself—his own justice, which is his alone to administer” (206). The peasants, too, employ a kind of vigilante justice, and while they certainly don’t possess the skill, prestige, and status that inspire the boy’s hero worship of Mitka, they’ve provided a backdrop against which violent revenge makes sense. The boy demonstrates how this message resonates when he asks Mitka to kill a dog that reminds him of Garbos’s dog, Judas; Mitka refuses, but the incident reflects the boy’s comfort with the idea that ability to cause harm is a measure of power. His desire to kill the dog is, arguably, not very different from Mitka’s desire to kill random peasants. The scene is a reminder that, in this sense, at least, Mitka’s belief in individual definitions of justice is not wrong.