Post by Cruz on Jul 13, 2010 12:42:30 GMT
Accepted.
Account E-Mail: EDITED
Name: Vadim Zbruyev
Nationality:
Russian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Soviet
Character History:
Vadim Zbruyev was born in 1927 to an embittered veteran of the Polish-Soviet War. Vadim's mother died in child birth, leaving him with three older brothers and his disabled father. While Vadim was young, he was basically raised by the youngest of his three older brothers, Oleksandr. Vadim's other two brothers worked in factories in St. Petersburg while their father drank away a good portion of the family's money. As Vadim grew into adolescence he learned just what it meant to work hard in a communist society.
Vadim took a job in a textile factory, spinning cotton and other fibers. The work was hard and the hours were long. He spent twelve hours a day working and only four sleeping. The only thing that kept him going was Oleksandr. His older brother pushed him hard to keep working. Oleksandr was the only brother that Vadim really had, his other two did very little other than work. Being so young, working put a big road block in him going to school. Instead of reading books and learning math, Vadim learned to make coffee and how to buy the best vegetables at the market. By the time he was sixteen, he was already counted as an adult in his family.
As the Second World War raged around him, Vadim paid little attention. His two oldest brothers Artur and Vladimir had joined early in the war, even before Germany had invaded. Vadim's oldest brother was a highly decorated Sergeant and his middle brother had been killed in Stalingrad. It only left Oleksandr and himself. But even that changed as Oleksandr joined just two days before Vadim himself was conscripted. Oleksandr had been shot trying to flee from battle only a week after Vadim was placed in training.
Basic training was a whole new experience for Vadim. As a conscript, Vadim and his whole training platoon were not expected to live. They were trained very basically, getting very little practice doing anything other than marching. Despite the terrible and often harsh instruction, Vadim toughed it out. He tried hard not to fall in with the weaker recruits that were often the target for brutal beatings and other torment. Instead he stuck unnoticed as a rather average soldier. He was afraid to show any real skill during training, not wanting to gain the burden of leading men he would probably watch die left and right.
Eventually, Vadim graduated Basic Training and was immediately deployed to the front. War was a horrible experience for Vadim during his first few weeks. He learned quickly that when you fight for the Motherland you do not retreat. At times he saw whole squads of frightened, under-equipped conscripts attempt to retreat, only to be cut down by friendly machine guns. But quickly, through propaganda and witnessing heavily losses being inflicted on his fellow soldiers, Vadim learned to be a hardened, hateful soldier. He often compared the Germans to dogs, which in his mind made it okay to shoot them and take no prisoners.
Military Rank:
Ryadovoi
Writing Sample:
It was late December by the time Vadim's unit had reached Bulgaria. The country looked miserable in the winter. As Vadim marched near the rear of his platoon's column he looked around. The snow was packed incredibly deep along the trail they were in and the crunching of the ice made stealthy movements almost impossible. Vadim had his rifle slung on his shoulder. He did this so he could keep his fingers from going stiff in the frigid temperatures. As he walked in his column, he looked behind him and nodded to Sergey. The young soldier was only a little older than fifteen. The kid had a pair of coke bottle glasses over his bright blue eyes and had a rather pale, baby face.
Vadim had taken it as his duty to watch out for him. It made him think of the ever-smiling face of Oleksandr. His deceased brother and Sergey shared the same eye color and need for glasses. But unlike Oleksandr, this kid needed someone to look out for him. He remembered when he had first met the kid. He had helped him find new pants after a German mortar strike. The fifteen year old had wet his pants out of fear, and instead of chastising him, Vadim felt bad. Since then the two had been "thick as thieves". Vadim even would give him some of his rations when there was very little to go around. He didn't want the kid to die of starvation, he had seen much of it in the peasants they had encountered across the western Soviet Union and other Balkan countries.
As the column of soldiers advanced through the snow, they could hear the far off crackling of machine guns. The sounds made Vadim remember what his company had been sent to do. They were sent to reinforce a key cross-roads town. The Germans had captured a portion of it, and Vadim hoped they didn't have it all by the time they reached the town. As the sounds of battle got louder and louder, the Soviet soldier took his rifle from its position on his shoulder and took the safety off. He turned his head back and smiled to an obviously nervous Sergey. The kid smiled back, but his blue eyes scavenged the landscape like a hungry dog looking for food. As the gunshots became incredibly loud, the company commander had everyone spread out. They formed a staggered line and Vadim made sure Sergey was near him.
Eventually, the company of Red Army soldiers could see the battle through a treeline. Germans were running around like mad men.
"Comrades! Charge!" shouted the Commanding Officer of the company.
With that, all the Red Army soldiers yelled at the top of their lungs and began firing as they ran. The Germans shouted as they saw the mass of Soviets running toward their positions like a hive-full of angry bees swarming an attacker. Vadim quickly fixed his bayonet, they slim, triangular blade pointing outward towards any Germans foolish enough to stay near him. As he ran, automatic weapons fire cut three men to his left down. They fell like a bunch of rag dolls from a shelf. Vadim could feel the sweet rush of adrenaline fill his veins as bullets whizzed and cracked over his head. As the PpSH's opened up and the DP28's to the rear of the charge began firing, the Germans sought cover quickly. Vadim and four men followed a squad of Germans retreating into a small house. Each one of the Soviets took a grenade from their belts and heaved them through two windows on top and two on the bottom. They ran to the east side of the building and ducked behind a fence. As the explosions went off, they ran in.
Vadim was the first in. He found a gruesome sight. One German was laying on his back, intestines ripped from his stomach by fragmentation. Another German was huddled in a corner, his right arm hanging by a string. He sat screaming at the top of his lungs, rocking back and forth. Vadim plunged the bayonet into the man's stomach. He watched blood spray from the soldier's mouth, it almost made the Russian smile. He hated the Germans, and the more painful the death the better. He quickly turned as something squeaked on the floor. A German came out of the kitchen of the house with his hands in the air. He was pleading in his stupid, foreign language. Vadim smacked him with the but of his gun. The German fell with a howl of pain. His helmet rolled off of his head and hit against a wall. Vadiim narrowed his eyes and continued beating him with the butt of his MN1903. Eventually the man's skull caved in and he stopped moving. To make sure he was dead, Vadim aimed the barrel of his rifle into the dent that was his pitiful German face and fired. Blood and brain matter rained across the kitchen, a bit even getting on the Russian's coat.
As the building was cleared of survivors, Vadim and the men rushed out to join the battle once more. The snow outside was painted an eerie scarlet. Bodies lay strewn across it, both Russian and German. Vadim looked around and noticed that he hadn't seen Sergey in quite some time. He searched the bodies near him for some sign of the blue-eyed kid. He found nothing, all of them were just nameless and faceless to him. He had seen it many times before and it was no different now. Vadim crouched down and scanned the battle before him. No sign of Sergey, he looked frantically. Vadim was frightened for the first time since his first week of the war. If Sergey was dead, he didn't know what he would do. As he scanned further, he spotted someone huddled against a wall, the form was small and in a Russian uniform. Vadim sprinted, bullets going around his feet. Eventually he reached the kid.
"Sergey, are you okay?" asked Vadim in a terrified voice.
"My stomach hurts..."
"Let me see," requested Vadim.
He moved the kid's arms and saw blood all over the place. He found a hole in Sergey's coat and quickly unbuttoned it. He lifted up the boy's shirt and saw it was a wound in his abdomen. Now Vadim was no doctor but from experience, he knew it was a liver shot. He grabbed the boy's face and looked into it. His skin was cold and more pale than it usually was. Tears welled up in Vadim's eyes as he stroked his dying friend's face. The boy coughed up blood and leaned into Vadim's shoulder. He held the kid silently for a few moments. He felt the boy's final breath release and he inched back. Taking his helmet off, Vadim just stared at the slumped over body. Tears streamed down his face. If he had been with Sergey, maybe he would have been shot instead. If he had just watched out for him like he had promised himself. Vadim took the boy's cold face and closed his blank, blue eyes with his fingers. He stretched the young soldier out and laid him on his back, rifle in hand. Whoever found his body would think he died for the Motherland, fighting. Not slumped over dying in his weeping friend's arms. He made a promise to himself that he would get back home alive and find Sergey's parents. He would tell them that their boy died a hero, fighting for his beloved Motherland and taking Germans with him by the bundle.
Account E-Mail: EDITED
Name: Vadim Zbruyev
Nationality:
Russian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Soviet
Character History:
Vadim Zbruyev was born in 1927 to an embittered veteran of the Polish-Soviet War. Vadim's mother died in child birth, leaving him with three older brothers and his disabled father. While Vadim was young, he was basically raised by the youngest of his three older brothers, Oleksandr. Vadim's other two brothers worked in factories in St. Petersburg while their father drank away a good portion of the family's money. As Vadim grew into adolescence he learned just what it meant to work hard in a communist society.
Vadim took a job in a textile factory, spinning cotton and other fibers. The work was hard and the hours were long. He spent twelve hours a day working and only four sleeping. The only thing that kept him going was Oleksandr. His older brother pushed him hard to keep working. Oleksandr was the only brother that Vadim really had, his other two did very little other than work. Being so young, working put a big road block in him going to school. Instead of reading books and learning math, Vadim learned to make coffee and how to buy the best vegetables at the market. By the time he was sixteen, he was already counted as an adult in his family.
As the Second World War raged around him, Vadim paid little attention. His two oldest brothers Artur and Vladimir had joined early in the war, even before Germany had invaded. Vadim's oldest brother was a highly decorated Sergeant and his middle brother had been killed in Stalingrad. It only left Oleksandr and himself. But even that changed as Oleksandr joined just two days before Vadim himself was conscripted. Oleksandr had been shot trying to flee from battle only a week after Vadim was placed in training.
Basic training was a whole new experience for Vadim. As a conscript, Vadim and his whole training platoon were not expected to live. They were trained very basically, getting very little practice doing anything other than marching. Despite the terrible and often harsh instruction, Vadim toughed it out. He tried hard not to fall in with the weaker recruits that were often the target for brutal beatings and other torment. Instead he stuck unnoticed as a rather average soldier. He was afraid to show any real skill during training, not wanting to gain the burden of leading men he would probably watch die left and right.
Eventually, Vadim graduated Basic Training and was immediately deployed to the front. War was a horrible experience for Vadim during his first few weeks. He learned quickly that when you fight for the Motherland you do not retreat. At times he saw whole squads of frightened, under-equipped conscripts attempt to retreat, only to be cut down by friendly machine guns. But quickly, through propaganda and witnessing heavily losses being inflicted on his fellow soldiers, Vadim learned to be a hardened, hateful soldier. He often compared the Germans to dogs, which in his mind made it okay to shoot them and take no prisoners.
Military Rank:
Ryadovoi
Writing Sample:
It was late December by the time Vadim's unit had reached Bulgaria. The country looked miserable in the winter. As Vadim marched near the rear of his platoon's column he looked around. The snow was packed incredibly deep along the trail they were in and the crunching of the ice made stealthy movements almost impossible. Vadim had his rifle slung on his shoulder. He did this so he could keep his fingers from going stiff in the frigid temperatures. As he walked in his column, he looked behind him and nodded to Sergey. The young soldier was only a little older than fifteen. The kid had a pair of coke bottle glasses over his bright blue eyes and had a rather pale, baby face.
Vadim had taken it as his duty to watch out for him. It made him think of the ever-smiling face of Oleksandr. His deceased brother and Sergey shared the same eye color and need for glasses. But unlike Oleksandr, this kid needed someone to look out for him. He remembered when he had first met the kid. He had helped him find new pants after a German mortar strike. The fifteen year old had wet his pants out of fear, and instead of chastising him, Vadim felt bad. Since then the two had been "thick as thieves". Vadim even would give him some of his rations when there was very little to go around. He didn't want the kid to die of starvation, he had seen much of it in the peasants they had encountered across the western Soviet Union and other Balkan countries.
As the column of soldiers advanced through the snow, they could hear the far off crackling of machine guns. The sounds made Vadim remember what his company had been sent to do. They were sent to reinforce a key cross-roads town. The Germans had captured a portion of it, and Vadim hoped they didn't have it all by the time they reached the town. As the sounds of battle got louder and louder, the Soviet soldier took his rifle from its position on his shoulder and took the safety off. He turned his head back and smiled to an obviously nervous Sergey. The kid smiled back, but his blue eyes scavenged the landscape like a hungry dog looking for food. As the gunshots became incredibly loud, the company commander had everyone spread out. They formed a staggered line and Vadim made sure Sergey was near him.
Eventually, the company of Red Army soldiers could see the battle through a treeline. Germans were running around like mad men.
"Comrades! Charge!" shouted the Commanding Officer of the company.
With that, all the Red Army soldiers yelled at the top of their lungs and began firing as they ran. The Germans shouted as they saw the mass of Soviets running toward their positions like a hive-full of angry bees swarming an attacker. Vadim quickly fixed his bayonet, they slim, triangular blade pointing outward towards any Germans foolish enough to stay near him. As he ran, automatic weapons fire cut three men to his left down. They fell like a bunch of rag dolls from a shelf. Vadim could feel the sweet rush of adrenaline fill his veins as bullets whizzed and cracked over his head. As the PpSH's opened up and the DP28's to the rear of the charge began firing, the Germans sought cover quickly. Vadim and four men followed a squad of Germans retreating into a small house. Each one of the Soviets took a grenade from their belts and heaved them through two windows on top and two on the bottom. They ran to the east side of the building and ducked behind a fence. As the explosions went off, they ran in.
Vadim was the first in. He found a gruesome sight. One German was laying on his back, intestines ripped from his stomach by fragmentation. Another German was huddled in a corner, his right arm hanging by a string. He sat screaming at the top of his lungs, rocking back and forth. Vadim plunged the bayonet into the man's stomach. He watched blood spray from the soldier's mouth, it almost made the Russian smile. He hated the Germans, and the more painful the death the better. He quickly turned as something squeaked on the floor. A German came out of the kitchen of the house with his hands in the air. He was pleading in his stupid, foreign language. Vadim smacked him with the but of his gun. The German fell with a howl of pain. His helmet rolled off of his head and hit against a wall. Vadiim narrowed his eyes and continued beating him with the butt of his MN1903. Eventually the man's skull caved in and he stopped moving. To make sure he was dead, Vadim aimed the barrel of his rifle into the dent that was his pitiful German face and fired. Blood and brain matter rained across the kitchen, a bit even getting on the Russian's coat.
As the building was cleared of survivors, Vadim and the men rushed out to join the battle once more. The snow outside was painted an eerie scarlet. Bodies lay strewn across it, both Russian and German. Vadim looked around and noticed that he hadn't seen Sergey in quite some time. He searched the bodies near him for some sign of the blue-eyed kid. He found nothing, all of them were just nameless and faceless to him. He had seen it many times before and it was no different now. Vadim crouched down and scanned the battle before him. No sign of Sergey, he looked frantically. Vadim was frightened for the first time since his first week of the war. If Sergey was dead, he didn't know what he would do. As he scanned further, he spotted someone huddled against a wall, the form was small and in a Russian uniform. Vadim sprinted, bullets going around his feet. Eventually he reached the kid.
"Sergey, are you okay?" asked Vadim in a terrified voice.
"My stomach hurts..."
"Let me see," requested Vadim.
He moved the kid's arms and saw blood all over the place. He found a hole in Sergey's coat and quickly unbuttoned it. He lifted up the boy's shirt and saw it was a wound in his abdomen. Now Vadim was no doctor but from experience, he knew it was a liver shot. He grabbed the boy's face and looked into it. His skin was cold and more pale than it usually was. Tears welled up in Vadim's eyes as he stroked his dying friend's face. The boy coughed up blood and leaned into Vadim's shoulder. He held the kid silently for a few moments. He felt the boy's final breath release and he inched back. Taking his helmet off, Vadim just stared at the slumped over body. Tears streamed down his face. If he had been with Sergey, maybe he would have been shot instead. If he had just watched out for him like he had promised himself. Vadim took the boy's cold face and closed his blank, blue eyes with his fingers. He stretched the young soldier out and laid him on his back, rifle in hand. Whoever found his body would think he died for the Motherland, fighting. Not slumped over dying in his weeping friend's arms. He made a promise to himself that he would get back home alive and find Sergey's parents. He would tell them that their boy died a hero, fighting for his beloved Motherland and taking Germans with him by the bundle.