He inspected the whole kolkhoz,cast an eye over the smithy and the stable. "Where's the horse?" he demanded. "What? Dead? Don't give me that crap. It's dead? You're a saboteur!"
They went out into the fields. The Party Secretary continued to fulminate. "Oh! So now he hasn't enough land for sowing… There's no end to his whining, this son of a dog. Look there. What's that? Isn't that land? Left in your hands, you filthy kulak, land like this is land gone to waste."
They had stopped beside a muddy field that ran down to the river. It was strewn with large white boulders. "Why don't you clear away those rocks?" the Secretary yelled again. "Well? I'm talking to you."
The head of the kolkhoz, who up to that moment had not opened his mouth, absently tucked the empty sleeve of his tunic into his belt with his remaining hand. In a hoarse voice he said: "Those are not rocks, Comrade Secretary…"
"So what are they, then?" yelled the other. "Are you telling me they're sugar beets that grew there all by themselves?"
They went closer. Then they saw that the white stones were human skulls.
"That's where our men tried to break through the ring of enemy troops," said the head of the kolkhoz in a dull voice. "They were caught in crossfire…"
Choking with fury, the Party Secretary hissed: "All you can do is give me goddamned stories. You're a fine bunch of Heroes here in this neck of the woods. You're sheltering behind your past exploits, the lot of you!"
Ashen-faced, Ivan advanced on him, grasped him by the lapel of his black leather jacket, and shouted in his face: "You filthy scum! At the front I shot down bastards like you with my submachine gun. Would you care to repeat what you said about Heroes…?"