An Incident at Krechetovka Station (Solzhenitsyn)
Short summary
Soviet railway station, October 1941. Lieutenant Zotov worked as assistant railway transport officer at Krechetovka Station during wartime. The front was collapsing - trains couldn't reach Tula anymore, and German motorcyclists had recently reached the station itself.
Despite desperate requests to join the front, Zotov remained stuck at his post. He found solace in reading Das Kapital and helping desperate soldiers who passed through. That rainy evening, he dealt with hungry escorts who hadn't eaten for eleven days and delayed a military shipment to help them get rations.
Later, a distinguished-looking stranger in odd civilian clothes waited in his office. The man introduced himself as Igor Tveritinov, an actor from Moscow's Dramatic Theatre who had volunteered for the militia, been captured by Germans, and escaped.
Tveritinov showed Zotov photographs of his family - his daughter in a garden and his wife reading to their son. The lieutenant was charmed by this cultured man and they engaged in animated conversation. When Zotov mentioned Tveritinov's destination near Stalingrad, the actor asked what it had been called before, seemingly unaware it was formerly Tsaritsyn. This innocent question shattered Zotov's trust - every Soviet citizen should know this fact. Convinced Tveritinov was a spy, Zotov had him arrested.
You're making a mistake that can never be put right!
Tveritinov desperately protested as guards led him away. Months later, when Zotov inquired, a security officer coldly confirmed they "don't make mistakes." For the rest of his life, Zotov was haunted by the memory of the cultured man with family photographs, realizing too late that exhaustion or stress could explain the slip. His ideological rigidity had likely destroyed an innocent man.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
The railway station during wartime; Zotovs duties and despair
On a rainy October evening in 1941, Lieutenant Vasily Vasilyevich Zotov worked at his desk in the station commandant's office at Krechetovka Station. The assistant railway transport officer was dealing with urgent matters - a blood plasma train for a military hospital had been delayed for nearly twelve hours due to engine problems. Through his office window, he could see the dismal scene: rain poured from a broken drainpipe, guards stood soaked at their posts, and the platform was covered with glassy, bubbling water.
The war's progress filled Zotov with overwhelming despair. Official bulletins revealed nothing about the front lines, but railway workers knew that trains could no longer reach Tula, and German bombers occasionally struck the Ryazan-Voronezh line. Ten days earlier, German motorcyclists had even reached Krechetovka itself, causing panic and the accidental destruction of the water column.
It was the totally bewildering way the war was going that made Zotov so miserable that he felt he wanted to howl out loud.
Despite his desperate requests to be sent to the front, Zotov remained stuck in his rear-echelon position. He found solace only in his work and in reading Das Kapital in the evenings, believing that mastering Marx would make him ideologically invincible. His personal life was complicated by his refusal to take comfortable lodgings with the flirtatious Valya Podshebyakina, choosing instead to sleep on an uncomfortable chest in an old woman's house, remaining faithful to his pregnant wife trapped under German occupation in Byelorussia.
The escort sergeants and the problem of hungry soldiers
Two escort sergeants arrived at Zotov's office that evening. The first was Sergeant Gaydukov, a handsome young man with a front-line tan who commanded a train carrying horses to the front.
The second was Sergeant Dygin, a thickset man with a weathered face who brought disturbing news - his escort of four men had not eaten for eleven days.
Dygin's men were escorting 20,000 entrenching tools from Gorky to Tiflis, but their train kept being uncoupled and left in sidings. They had drawn rations twice but missed subsequent distributions because ration stores operated strict hours and never issued back-rations. For a week, they had survived only on boiled beetroot. Zotov was moved by their plight and tried to help, but the ration store was closed and the quartermaster Samorukov refused to come out after hours.
He was genuinely glad to see everyone and was anxious to do his best by everyone ... these people who came for five minutes or forty-eight hours were the only ones to whom he could show the proper care.
Zotov decided to uncouple Dygin's carriages so the men could get rations in the morning, even though this meant delaying an important military shipment. Gaydukov, meanwhile, offered to share food with the hungry soldiers from his own well-supplied train.
The arrival of Tveritinov; first impressions and conversation
After dealing with the sergeants, Zotov returned to his office where a stranger waited - a man in his late forties wearing an odd combination of civilian clothes and army boots. The visitor had a distinguished bearing despite his shabby appearance, with graying hair, an unshaven face, and a cultured voice. He introduced himself as Igor Dementyevich Tveritinov and explained that he had missed his train at Skopino while trading for food.
Tveritinov carried a travel warrant from Ryazhsk and told Zotov he was a returnee - a soldier who had been surrounded by Germans, captured, and then freed by Soviet forces. He had no documents except family photographs, which he showed to Zotov with obvious emotion. The pictures showed his fourteen-year-old daughter Irina in a garden and his wife reading to their young son.
Looking at these photos, Zotov sensed an atmosphere of cultured security ... fragments in his memory—from the Tretyakov Museum, from the theatre, or from books—had gradually built up in him the idea that such families existed.
Tveritinov revealed he was an actor from Moscow's Dramatic Theatre who had volunteered for the militia. His unit had received minimal training with wooden grenades and old rifles before being sent to Vyazma, where they were caught in an ambush. Most were captured, but a small group joined the returnees and escaped. Zotov was fascinated by this cultured man and offered him tobacco, eager to continue their conversation.
The lieutenant found himself drawn into an animated discussion about the war, his own frustrated attempts to reach the front, and even his student days. Tveritinov listened with intelligent sympathy, and Zotov felt a rare connection with someone who understood his idealistic fervor. When Valya Podshebyakina announced that train 794 would be delayed, Zotov offered to take Tveritinov to the ration stores to get him some food.
As they prepared to leave, Zotov explained Tveritinov's route: the train would take him to Gryazi, then Povorino, and finally to Archeda near Stalingrad, where he would rejoin his original transport. The conversation had been so pleasant that Zotov felt genuine warmth toward this refined stranger who had endured such hardships with dignity.
Growing suspicion and the fatal slip about Stalingrad
When Zotov mentioned that Tveritinov's destination was near Stalingrad, the actor's response shattered the lieutenant's trust completely. Tveritinov asked with genuine puzzlement what Stalingrad had been called before, seemingly unaware that it was the former Tsaritsyn - a fact every Soviet citizen should know.
Sorry … Stalingrad? What was it called before?
Something in Zotov snapped and he suddenly froze. Was it possible? A Soviet citizen and he didn't know Stalingrad? That was quite, quite impossible!
Zotov's mind raced with suspicions. This cultured man with his distinguished bearing and perfect manners was clearly not a simple Soviet soldier. He must be a spy, possibly a White émigré officer in disguise. The lieutenant's idealistic nature had made him vulnerable to deception, and he felt foolish for being so easily taken in by the stranger's charm and apparent suffering.
Trying to maintain his composure, Zotov called the guardroom and sent a coded message to Valya, asking her to say that train 794 would be delayed by an hour. He needed time to think and act. The pleasant conversation had become a trap, and Zotov realized he had revealed military information to a potential enemy agent. His duty was clear, but the decision tormented him.
And Zotov could not lie.
The lieutenant's internal struggle was intense. He had genuinely liked Tveritinov, had been moved by the photographs of his family, and had felt a rare intellectual connection. But his ideological training and sense of duty overrode his personal feelings. In wartime, with Moscow threatened and the Soviet Union fighting for survival, there could be no room for sentiment when national security was at stake.
Zotov's suspicions deepened as he recalled other details: Tveritinov's request to see a map, his questions about routes, his too-perfect manners, and his claim to be an actor without proper documentation. The lieutenant convinced himself that his duty to the Soviet state demanded action, regardless of his personal doubts.
The arrest and its immediate aftermath
Under the pretense of getting food for Tveritinov, Zotov led him through the muddy darkness to the ration store building. There, in a dimly lit room, he left the unsuspecting man under guard while he went to write his report. Tveritinov realized what was happening and cried out desperately, asking what he had done wrong and pleading not to miss his train.
The scene was heartbreaking. Tveritinov, with his arms raised in his too-short sleeves and holding his pathetic kit bag, seemed to grow to the size of his dark shadow as he protested his innocence. He shouted that Zotov was making a mistake that could never be put right, his voice ringing like a bell in the cold room. The sentry blocked his path with a bayonet as he tried to follow the lieutenant.
Zotov wrote his report to the NKVD Security Section, stating that he was sending them the prisoner Tveritinov, who claimed to have been left behind at Skopino. He ordered Guskov to escort the man to the junction with another soldier and hand him over to the authorities. The lieutenant tried to reassure Tveritinov that they just needed to clear up one little question, but both men knew this was likely untrue.
As Tveritinov was led away into the night, Zotov caught a final glimpse of his face in the dim lantern light - the despairing expression of a man facing an uncertain but probably terrible fate. The image would haunt the lieutenant for the rest of his life, but at the time he convinced himself he had done his duty as a Soviet officer in wartime.
The arrest took place just days before the twenty-fourth anniversary of the October Revolution, a holiday that had always filled Zotov with joy and pride. This year, however, the celebration would be overshadowed by his growing doubts about what he had done. The memory of Tveritinov's family photographs and his cultured, gentle manner began to eat away at the lieutenant's certainty.
The long-term consequences and Zotovs lifelong regret
Several days passed, and the holiday came and went, but Zotov could not shake off the memory of the man with the delightful smile and the photograph of his daughter in her striped dress. Unable to bear the uncertainty, he telephoned the Security Section to inquire about Tveritinov's fate. The response was curt: the prisoner was being investigated, and Zotov was warned about some unclear points in his own report about damaged goods.
All winter, Zotov continued working at Krechetovka Station. When a Security Officer visited on official business, the lieutenant casually asked about Tveritinov. The officer's response was ominous and final, suggesting that the case was being handled properly and that no mistakes were made.
Your Tverikin's being sorted out all right. We don't make mistakes.
The bureaucratic coldness of this response and the slight mispronunciation of Tveritinov's name filled Zotov with dread. He began to understand that he might have destroyed an innocent man based on a moment of suspicion and ideological paranoia. The actor's genuine confusion about Stalingrad could have had many explanations - stress, exhaustion, or simply a momentary lapse that any person might experience under extreme circumstances.
The weight of his decision would follow Zotov for decades. He had acted according to his training and the demands of wartime vigilance, but he had also betrayed a fundamental human connection. The memory of Tveritinov's family photographs, his cultured conversation, and his desperate final plea would serve as a constant reminder of the terrible consequences that can result from ideological rigidity and the willingness to sacrifice individual human beings for abstract principles.
After that, Zotov was never able to forget the man for the rest of his life …
The incident at Krechetovka Station became a defining moment in Zotov's life, representing the tragic collision between personal conscience and political duty that characterized the Soviet era. His inability to forget Tveritinov reflected not just personal guilt, but a deeper recognition of how easily fear and ideology could transform ordinary people into instruments of injustice, even when they believed they were serving a greater good.