“Are we going to have war?” Sacha asked in the same unemotional voice. “Probably.” Sacha’s face barely lit up with a restrained smile. Kondratiev smiled broadly. He thought: Don’t say a word, lad. I know. The enemy first. “Do you need any books?” “Yes, Ivan Nicolayevich. I want German books on tank tactics … We shall have to meet superior tactics …” “But our morale will be superior …” “Right,” said Sacha dryly. “I will try to get the books for you … Good luck, Sacha.” “Good luck to you too,” the young man said.
