A dead village (open to all Russians)

[Aleksei Vassiliev]

"Soldier, are you completely insane? Immediately stop talking to those Germans or I will just give you the same treatment, as those two Fascists will receive right now.",
At the yell of praporschik Anatkin, Aleksei jumped back. "Yes sir but I...I just...sorry sir..." Aleksei swallowed. He didn't mean to enrage the officer more than he already was. There was no doubt the praporschik was capable of making his threat come true.

"And you, woman, what do you think I want you to do now? Are you really stupid enough, to still not having understood? You two are going to take the prisoners over to the wall of that house there and quickly dispose them, this is an order! We don't have any time to care anymore, as our superiors need us to continue following the retreating, broken enemy forces just as quick as possible. And dare to shoot your rifles off target, as any of you two, who does so, can just place himself next to the Fascists."

His face turned to the two Germans again, Aleksei nodded silently. He checked his rifle, already knowing that a bullet was present as always and watched Efreitor Tsaganbataar lifting the woman from the boy's side. He didn't feel much likeness in killing citizens even if they were Germans...

He turned to the praporschik and saw the man's eyes turn from anger to an amazed understanding.
"Siegfried, nein!"

A quick movement from the boy, the scream of pain by Tsaganbataar, followed by the boy being thrown to the ground and a knife sticking in the mighty arm of Tsaganbataar...It all happened in a matter of seconds. Aleksei raised his eyebrows in disbelief. The woman lay shivering on the ground. The sight of the blood dripping from the arm on the ground made Aleksei grin but who looked in his eyes saw no joy but pure emptiness.
He pulled the woman from the ground, grabbed her by her throat and pushed her hard against the wall. Seeing Laya raising her rifle, Aleksei did the same. The woman, trying to bravely accept her fate, stood there. Her eyes focused on him.
He inhaled the cold air. His finger on the trigger.
Kill her...Kill her...kill those swines...
It kept echoing in his head. Everything around him was a blur. He heard no sounds, only his heart pounding. That woman...
She was all that he could see, that he wanted to see.

He shot her at the same time Laya shot the boy. Her lifeless body on the ground next to her son. Aleksei exhaled.
"It is finished..."
The moment Laya spoke these words, Aleksei felt the rush in his body fade away. He just shot a woman. An innocent woman.
She was a German. She would have stabbed you, just like her son did to Tsaganbataar. How many Comrades do you think the boy has killed? You did a good thing, making the nation proud.
But...why did he feel so badly about doing what he had done?

He turned away from the scene, walking toward the road. He stopped next to Anatkin. "I guess our superiors don't think we have time to bury them sir? They're just German dogs. Dogs we put to sleep...that we have to put to sleep..." Aleksei looked back at the two bodies and swallowed. "I sure think I can use a drink right now..."

[Sergey Anatkin]

Slowly, the warm, thick blood used to drip down from Tsagaanbaatar's arm onto the dark, dirty cobblestones of the village's main street. The Mongolian still kept staring at his wound in fascination, until after a few more seconds, he finally pulled the knife out his arm in a zestful movement. The face of the gigantic Russian was distorted in agony while he did so, but his mouth didn't open up to even release a single, short sound of pain. Deprecatingly sobbing, the Efreitor threw the knife back over his shoulder and sent a devastating view over to the young German, who still motionlessly lay on the cobbled road. A very young appearing, female soldier, that had stayed in the background of the disturbing scenery so far, now started doing some steps towards the Mongolian and expressionless took a roll of dressing material out of her uniform- mantle. Only shortly nodding his head in return, Tsagaanbaatar remained still for a few seconds and allowed the woman to treat his wounded, muscular arm. When the female had half finished bandaging the deep recess, the Mongolian abruptly started a laughter, so frightening, that it easily did set the teeth of almost all of the by standing soldiers on edge. The laughing fit took nearly a whole minute, before this human giant slowly managed to calm his nerves down a bit again.

Before Sergey had the need, to issue any more orders, the soldier, who had just tried to communicate with the German prisoners, now forcefully grabbed the woman by her throat. The expression inside his face had changed to a hard mask, immediately after the young prisoner had tried to attack Tsagaanbaatar. The young Efreitor glanced at the two Germans in hate, when he pulled the woman back on her legs and jostled her over towards the damaged brick- building. The German female did hardly bang against the wall of the house and strained tried not to fall back on the ground again. The young boy had gotten placed right next to her in front of the wall, shivering awaiting the things, that were up to happen in the next few moments.

The Efreitor and the female Mladshi Sershant, that Sergey had destined to act as the executioners of those two prisoners, had also taken up their places now. Awfully slow, the two soldiers used to ready their Mosin Nagant carbines, finally signaling Sergey to have ended their preparations after some more moments. For a last time, Sergey tried to find the view of the young German, but the boy now looked down to the grey cobblestones, already having lost his very last will of resistance. Quite in the contrary, his mother used to stand straight at the wall, bravely awaiting the moment of her death. Slowly lifting his right hand into the air, Sergey shifted his view over to the two Russians in front of the prisoners and moved his arm down again. "Fire!", the Praporschik's guttural voice sounded through the cold evening. Instantly following after the command, two dry rifle shots loudly cracked through the air.

Pale and focused, the Efreitor used to stand still in front of the two dead bodies for a few more seconds, while the female Mladshi Sershant worked the bolt of her long Mosin and silently mumbled something to herself. Turning his head around to his back, Sergey found Efreitor Tsagaanbaatar's arm provisionally bandaged with gauze. Nodding his head toward the Mongolian, the Praporschik ordered: "Chaschbaataryn, make sure, that the men finally continue the marsh. We're already way back in our timetable, so force them to hurry up. In five minutes, I want to see the whole platoon on it's way towards the next, godforsaken German town." The Mongolian used to slowly move his head up and down in return, before he instantly turned towards the biggest bunch of Russians, loudly screaming at the soldiers to continue their way. In the meanwhile, Sergey started heading for the near end of the town, where the main street disappeared behind several bushes and trees, depicting a long, right hand bend. Carefully, the Praporschik fished a small paper- container out of the pouches, that hung down his waist belt. The small container comprehended some crude cigarettes, made from strong, Russian Machorka. After Sergey had lit himself one, he deeply hauled the bitter smoke into his lungs and satisfied blew it into the dark, evening horizon.

"I guess our superiors don't think we have time to bury them sir?" The hushed voice behind him made Sergey look around in surprise. The Efreitor, who had just executed the German woman a few minutes ago, now stood on the cobbled main street and expectantly looked at the Praporschik. "No, after all, what those German monsters have done to our country, we'll leave them here rotting. Shall the wild animals offend their dead bodies." Slowly, Sergey continued his way towards the last houses of Allenstein, not keeping attention to the young Efreitor behind him anymore. His thoughts had already wandered back to his platoon and to the defiance of making all of the soldiers arrive at their final destination in time. This task had gotten even more difficult, now that the valuable minutes were lost, that the events of the last, bloody half an hour had used to cost the Soviet soldiers. Hauling the strong smoke of his Machorka- cigarette again into his body, the Praporschik silently prayed to himself, for god somehow understanding his ways in the end.

[Daniel Brennan]

Mod Post

It's finally being closed, Panzerschreck.

CP:
Sergey: Excellent posts of a good length - 11CP

Laya: Good posts, but shorter than others in the thread - 7CP

Aleksei: 8CP

Nikolai: Good posts, but less posts than everyone else in the thread - 7CP


~Dan