"What do you mean?" Major Gavrilov asked as he took the gas mask from Dmitri's hands and turned it over carefully.
The rubber mask looked ordinary enough under the weak basement light, but Dmitri's serious expression immediately caught the attention of everyone nearby.
Dmitri glanced around the crowded basement before speaking.
Major Gavrilov understood at once.
"Clear this area," he ordered quietly.
The nearby guards quickly pushed several soldiers away from the command table. A few officers looked annoyed, but nobody argued. After what had happened with the Instructor's betrayal, nobody trusted secrecy anymore. One deserter could destroy an entire operation.
Soon, only Major Gavrilov, Commissar Fomin, and Dmitri remained near the table.
Dmitri trusted Commissar Fomin enough to continue. Historically, Fomin had refused to surrender even after the fall of the fortress. When he was eventually captured, he disguised himself as an ordinary soldier, but someone betrayed him to the Germans. He was executed shortly afterward outside the Kholm Gate.
That alone told Dmitri what kind of man Fomin truly was.
"What exactly are you trying to say, Dmitri?" Gavrilov asked impatiently, lifting the gas mask slightly.
Dmitri pointed toward the mask.
"It's airtight, right?"
"Of course," Gavrilov answered. "It's designed to protect against chemical weapons."
"And these glass lenses…" Dmitri continued, tapping the eye pieces carefully. "We can still see through them."
"The viewports," Commissar Fomin corrected automatically.
"Yes, the viewports," Dmitri nodded quickly. "And it has a breathing hose attached to the filter…"
Major Gavrilov frowned.
"Get to the point, Dmitri."
Dmitri hesitated for a second before speaking.
"What if we use them underwater?"
The room went silent.
Commissar Fomin blinked.
"Underwater?"
"Yes," Dmitri said, growing more confident. "The mask seals tightly around the face. The hose lets air pass through. If we modify it slightly, we might be able to breathe while submerged."
Major Gavrilov stared at him blankly for several seconds.
Then realization suddenly flashed across his face.
"Oh…"
A grin slowly spread across the major's exhausted face.
"Oh, that's brilliant!"
Commissar Fomin still looked confused.
Gavrilov leaned closer and lowered his voice instinctively, even though no one else was nearby.
"If this works," he whispered, "our soldiers can move through the river without being seen."
Dmitri nodded quickly.
"The Germans are watching the riverbanks, not underwater. Small groups could cross beneath the surface and appear behind enemy lines."
Commissar Fomin's eyes widened.
"You mean infiltration…"
"Yes."
For the first time in hours, actual hope appeared inside the basement.
Not fake hope.
Not desperate optimism.
A real possibility.
Major Gavrilov immediately leaned over the map again.
"How do we modify the masks?"
Dmitri pointed at the breathing tube.
"We remove the filter canister and extend the hose upward. Then we attach the end to something that floats on the surface — maybe wood or empty cans — so the tube stays above water while the soldier stays below it."
Commissar Fomin nodded rapidly.
"That would allow breathing while hidden underwater…"
"We'll also need weight," Gavrilov added immediately. "Otherwise the men will float up."
"Yes," Dmitri agreed. "Something tied to the legs."
"Bricks," Gavrilov answered. "Or scrap metal."
The major's mind was already racing ahead.
"And water depth matters," Commissar Fomin added. "If the river is too deep, some men may panic or drown."
Dmitri frowned slightly.
That part he had not fully considered.
"How do we know the safe areas?"
Major Gavrilov immediately turned and shouted.
"Kalpsya!"
A guard hurried over.
"Yes, Comrade Major!"
"You fish in these rivers, don't you?"
Kalpsya nodded proudly.
"Since childhood."
Gavrilov pointed to the map.
"I need every section of shallow water marked immediately. Depth, current speed, riverbed — everything."
"Yes, Comrade Major."
Kalpsya grabbed a pencil and quickly began marking locations across the map.
"This section is shallow."
He pointed again.
"Strong current here."
Another mark.
"Muddy bottom here. Hard to walk."
Within minutes, the fortress map slowly transformed into a rough hydrological chart.
Dmitri watched nervously.
Their entire escape plan depended on this.
One wrong estimate could drown dozens of men in darkness before the Germans even fired a shot.
After Kalpsya left, Dmitri quietly asked.
"Can we trust that information?"
"Absolutely," Gavrilov answered immediately. "That man knows these rivers better than he knows his own family."
Dmitri forced himself to nod.
There was no time for anything better anyway.
Outside the basement, distant artillery rumbled again.
BOOOOM.
Dust drifted from the ceiling.
Nobody even flinched anymore.
Commissar Fomin folded his arms.
"Then we need a crossing point."
"The church sector?" Gavrilov suggested. "It's the shortest crossing."
That had been Dmitri's original thought as well. Behind the ruined church, the Bug River only needed to be crossed once to reach the mainland.
Every other direction required crossing multiple waterways and fortified bridges.
But Dmitri slowly shook his head.
"No."
The officers looked at him.
"I don't think the church sector will work anymore."
"Why?" Fomin asked.
Dmitri leaned over the map.
"The Germans tightened security there after the failed breakout. They know we're desperate for water, so they've already concentrated machine guns and patrols along that bank."
He pointed toward the eastern sector.
"If too many men enter the water there, the Germans will spot them immediately."
Fomin nodded reluctantly.
"That's true."
"So we can only send small infiltration teams," Dmitri continued. "Not the entire force."
Gavrilov crossed his arms thoughtfully.
"Which means we need another target."
His finger moved across the map toward the surrounding islands of Brest Fortress.
"Kobrin Fortress is impossible," he muttered. "The Germans just captured it and reinforced the area heavily."
Nobody argued.
That left West Island and South Island.
Gavrilov tapped the western route.
"West Island has a stone bridge. Easier to cross once captured."
Dmitri immediately shook his head.
"No, Comrade Major."
Both officers looked at him again.
"I think we should target South Island."
"South Island?" Commissar Fomin frowned. "The suspension bridge?"
"Yes."
"That bridge is narrow and exposed," Gavrilov said carefully. "West Island seems far safer."
"Exactly," Dmitri replied quietly.
The officers exchanged confused looks.
Dmitri pointed to the western side of the map first.
"The Germans know West Island is the logical choice. Strong bridge. Better terrain. Easier movement for large forces."
Then his finger moved south.
"But South Island looks dangerous. Narrow bridge. Poor visibility. Limited movement."
"And that's why they'll defend it less," Gavrilov finished slowly.
Dmitri nodded.
"The Germans think like experienced soldiers. They expect us to choose the safest route."
"Which means the weakest defenses may be where the route looks worst," Commissar Fomin muttered.
Dmitri continued:
"We don't need to move everyone at once. Small underwater assault groups can quietly eliminate the bridge guards first. Once the bridge is secured, the rest of the troops can follow."
The basement became silent again.
Only the distant THUD-THUD-THUD of artillery echoed overhead.
Major Gavrilov stared at the map for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"You know something, Dmitri?"
"What?"
"You think more like a German officer than a Soviet soldier."
Dmitri gave a weak smile.
If only you knew why.
Fomin straightened himself.
"Then we move immediately."
"Yes," Gavrilov agreed. "Every second we waste gives the Germans more time to tighten their encirclement."
He looked toward the dark basement full of exhausted soldiers, wounded civilians, and frightened children.
Then back toward the gas mask on the table.
A simple piece of rubber and glass.
Under normal circumstances, it was just another standard Red Army equipment issue.
Tonight, it might become the only thing standing between survival and annihilation.
Gavrilov grabbed the mask firmly.
"Wake the engineers," he ordered. "Cut apart every gas mask we have."
"And the soldiers?" Commissar Fomin asked.
The major's expression hardened.
"Find volunteers who can swim."
Outside the fortress walls, German artillery continued rumbling through the night like distant thunder.
The final battle for Brest Fortress was not over yet.