Cold Chills (Open to all Soviets)

[Nikolai Boryenko]

Country: Somewhere in Russia
Time: 6:20
Place: Russian Army Base

Nikolai woke up in a daze. He was tired, but couldn't get back to sleep so what better to do when you can't sleep, get up and move around. He got out of his bed and put his pants on, then moved to his shirt. He went to the small sink where he put water in his hands and splashed it on his face. He walked back to his bunk and found his pair of boots under his bed. He pulled them out and slipped them on, lacing them just tight enough. He walked out the front door, wondering what he would encounter today.

I wonder if breakfast is being served yet. He thought to himself as he started making his way towards the meal serving area. The brisk air gave him a small chill as he kept walking. He was pleased to see a few soldiers up getting some food as he was. He stepped in line and waited quietly. When he finally got to the food it all looked bad to him so he just grabbed some dark coffee and a piece of fruit. When he arrived to an empty table he took a seat and bowed his head. "Bless this meal unto my body so I may be a better servant. Give me grace as I fight throughout the days. Amen." He prayed in almost a whisper.

After a while a few men came and sat at the table. They sat on the other side after they the rank of Nikolai. He didn't take offense to it. He was used to it by now. Alot of men were wary of the Serjeants after hearing stories about men who had shot cowards and Germans alike. Many of the enlisted men above the lowest rank had the same mindset. If they are a coward, they die. If they are a Fascist, they die. And Nikolai saw nothing wrond with this mindset. He liked it in fact and held it as his own.

Nikolai could hear the other men talking in low voices about him. He could also hear them calling him they kept calling him something other than his rank and name. Nikolai just couldn't hear what they were calling him. He didn't care. He just kept sipping on his luke-warm coffee and eating his fruit. He was very interested in what the soldiers were calling him, but what was it?

[Aleksei Vassiliev]

Aleksei stood in the food line and was "lucky" to get his hands on some leftover stew to keep him warm and a hard piece of bread. "At least it's better than nothing." He said like only a hungry man could've sai it. The food transports always had dificulties when it was cold. And German raids certainly didn't help. He had been doing exercises from 5:00 and was happy the Serjeant had allowed them to eat. It promised to be a long day again full of fun: Exercices, marches and gun handling. With the joyful Serzhant Dadorsk screaming and yelling at them.

He and some other men walked over to a table and he glanced a man sitting there alone. A Marshii Serzhant as Aleksei could see on the rank on his uniform. The group trembled but decided to sit at the table on the other side of the man. "Isn't that Serzhant Boryenko?" One of them whispered. "No? Really? That him? The one the Germans call 'Die Vergelter'? " Another one replied. "How do you know the Germans call him so?" "Haven't you read the last edition of Pravda? Or have you used it to smoke Machorka again?" The first man smiled sadly. "I can't read..."

Aleksei had followed the conversation a little as he stirred his spoon in the stew. Something that looked like meat floated in the bowl and he it was like he was deciding to put the meat in his mouth or not. He noticed the snipers patch on the Serjeants arm and he looked up straight into the Serzhants eyes. He nodded and took his sigarette case. Only two left... He looked up again lighted a sigarette and offered Boryenko his last one.
He too had read the article and had heared stories both good and bad. And Boryenko looked like a man to respect. Not like Dadorsk. He shivered as he thought about the man again.

[Nikolai Boryenko]

Nikolai felt eyes on him. He turned and saw an Efreitor looking at him. He ignored the man and kept sipping his coffee. The man didn't ignore Nikolai, though. The Efreitor came next to him and lit a cigarrette. Nikolai was offered one. He had never smoked before, he always noted that smoking was bad because many of the men who are killed by snipers are normally lighting up a smoke. Well, there weren't any enemy snipers around obviously so Nikolai gave in and took the cigarrette from the man's hand. "Thanks." He said lightly as he held the cigarrette towards the lighter so it was lit.

The cigarrette touched his lips, but he did not inhale. The smoke only filled his mouth and then was breathed out lightly. He looked at the man who had approached him. His curiosity got the best of him. "Those men over there, what do they say?" He asked as he felt his belt that had German uniform buttons on it from all of his kills. Each was unique, like each kill. He remembered them all, their faces, their fight, their death.

Nikolai had known a few months back who found nicknames among the men. One of them he remembered being called der Kopfgeldjäger by the Germans. It meant Bounty Hunter because he would always be seen taking some type of money from them, and their right index finger, but before they could shoot him he would always mysteriously disappear before a single shot was fired. The thought of this amused Nikolai, but he would never do such a thing. He still had some honor, very little towards Nazis. Hate was always more powerful than honor in this war.

It then dawned on Nikolai. This is war, make no friends, lose no friends. He thought to himself. After the Efreitor answered him he got up and started walking. He disengaged from the conversation and moved to the end of the breakfast line where he placed his coffee glass down on a towel and threw his piece of fruit in the garbage pile. He looked at the Efreitor again, then took a puff from his cigarrette. He walked towards the shooting range where he would practice.