Last Days of Sevastopol

Words at war, the last days of Sabastopol. Enter. You're the chief of naval officers here? Yes.

My name is Boris Wojtegof. I'm a newspaper correspondent for Plavda in Moscow. You're my documents. So? A request passage on a destroyer to Sivastopol. Sabastopol? Impossible. Visits to Sabastopol have been prohibited since yesterday. By whose aura?

The Admiralty's. And where is the Admiral did? At Sevastopol. Look here, this is senseless. I must get to Sevastopol. And you alone do the work of five divisions of troops? No, of course not. Then there's nothing for you to do in Sevastopol.

Listen to me, comrade. If you don't let me go, I shall report to the Prof. The ditory office that you, personally, without the sanction of the Admiral, did prevent me from describing what is happening in Sevastopol.

But a well-come-ride body cop. If you insist. I do insist. Very well follow me. This is my home as well as my office. Make yourself comfortable. This is my wife. What is the matter, comrade?

Are you afraid of her because she greets you from her coffin? Are you afraid of those staring eyes? Are you shocked at the agony and horror in her dead face? This is my wife, I tell you.

This is Sevastopol. She was there. Friends sent her body to me. My misery and hatred multiplied them by the thousands. Add smashed hopes, rubble buildings and homes, and you have Sevastopol. You wish to go there, comrade Vortico.

You have my permission. Go ahead. A Words at War. Tonight, the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with the Council on Books and War Time is bringing you another in its series of radio adaptations of great books of this war.