My squad fell back to the rear lines to take over the night shift from others. On the way, I came across a rather special prisoner of war. His name was Gronyzov. Instead of being sad and dejected like the other Kuznetskozhyan prisoners, he wore a smile that looked truly content and relieved.
I was curious and asked him about it, and he spoke to me without reservation. Before this, Gronyzov was a shoemaker who had to join the army for the meager pay. The result was clear.
Witnessing scenes he thought only existed in movies, he grew more and more afraid and hopeless. He just wanted to go back to his old life, no matter how poor, but it was too late. Gronyzov imagined that when he returned, he'd be ridiculed by everyone and even executed for failing his duty as a soldier. That was also the fate of nearly 30,000 other prisoners. It was truly horrifying.
"If I had one wish, I would wish I didn't have to come to this shithole, didn't have to shed blood, didn't have to witness people eating and killing each other. But it's too late now. I won't get to see my little granddaughter again. I was so foolish. Was a few coins worth this much?" Gronyzov let out a long sigh, a glimmer of nostalgia and self-reproach in his eyes.
The sky had lightened a little. Trucks packed with corpses moved slowly in a convoy with our vehicles. The scene here was gloomy, the sky a shifting green that carried a chill. The air was thick with the smell of night fog mixed with blood, making the nerves of anyone who smelled it instantly tense. In my ears, a tragic song seemed to play, its rhythm impossible to grasp.
My head ached a little; it was truly unpleasant.
Most of the group had fallen asleep long ago. Captain Dimitri was also tired, so the driving task was left to me. While driving, I couldn't stop thinking about what that soldier had said.
Indeed, this was just a place for politicians to kill each other. There was no such thing as a benefit. Altirustzkan wanted to destroy Kuznetskozhyan and vice versa. Everything I did here just got rid of one sacrificial pawn so another could take its place. How ridiculous. To know that your destiny is arranged for bad luck by someone else's hand, yet you can only helplessly submit to that arrangement, unable to do anything. I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh.
Lost in thought, I suddenly felt a new weight on my shoulder. Lowering my eyes to the platinum hair close to my face, a sweet feeling rose in my heart, reminding me of the soft sensation that had once existed, if only for a fleeting moment, on my cheek. My face involuntarily flushed a little, and I felt a bit flustered.
Ilaina must have been tired. When did her face, once so full of life and always smiling, start to show such a haggard sadness? I was quite worried. Lately, Ilaina had been a bit strange; she often dreamt of reuniting with her parents, and that had made her more withdrawn. Losing parents, to be honest, was like having a thousand knives plunge into your heart.
Ilaina leaned peacefully against my shoulder, a few strands of hair falling onto her face. I tried to gently brush them away and tuck them behind her ear.
Silently watching Ilaina as she slept, I felt a pang in my heart. I truly didn't dare to imagine the prospect of losing her, but I still didn't understand why I felt this way. Perhaps this feeling was born from having someone close, someone who truly cared and loved me.
But unfortunately, we were currently at the front. The kind of place where people only cared about trampling on other people's lives or how to survive. It was terrible; we could be killed by a piece of a bomb or artillery at any moment. Moments of relaxation like this were truly priceless.
Eight hours later, the whole group returned to our new accommodation at the Katzacksy base in Kritchenberg. Here, we witnessed for the first time what it was like for corpses to be stacked into mountains or for blood to flow into rivers. We were terrified by the horrific number of scattered organs and body parts. The tents were now crowded with people, all stained with blood. The doctors ran in and out, looking as if they had just been chased by a mob of cannibals.
On the way to our dorm, we passed a school that had been completely destroyed by shelling and was being dismantled. Along the side of the school, brand-new, dark coffins, not yet polished, were stacked on top of each other to form a second, towering fence. They still smelled of pine resin, pine wood, and the distant forest. I estimated there must have been at least a few hundred coffins.
"Our casualties are really high. I bet dozens of people die every day, mostly those greenhorn rookies with no experience whatsoever. I don't know why they're thrown out here. They're just treating human lives like grass," Ilaina complained indignantly.
I waved my hand and shrugged, saying:
"I guess they want to train them the same way Kuznetskozhyan does with us. But this is just sacrificing troops. Who knows when these bureaucrats will finally show themselves?"
Attack, counterattack, assault, counter-assault... these were just words, but they contained so much! We lost many comrades, mostly new recruits. Our front line received reinforcements. It was one of the newly formed regiments, mostly young soldiers from the latest conscription rounds.
They received almost no training, only a little theoretical practice before going to the front. They knew what bombs and mines were, but they had almost no hiding skills and, most importantly, they lacked the quickness to spot danger. The ground had to be raised half a meter high before they could see it. Although we desperately needed support, the new soldiers almost made us busier than they helped.
They were completely helpless in such a fierce combat zone and died like flies. Trench warfare today requires knowledge and experience. A soldier must understand the terrain, must be able to distinguish different types of shells by their sound and trajectory, must be able to predict where they will fall, what their destructive power is, and what to do to protect themselves—not just charge forward and use their bodies to block.
These young soldiers, of course, knew almost nothing about any of that. They were hit by bullets because they could hardly distinguish between mortar shells and grenades. They dropped like flies because they were terrified, listening to the shrieking of large, harmless canisters rolling far behind them, while ignoring the whistling whisper of the small monsters that would explode when they flew close to the ground. They huddled together like sheep, when they should have scattered, and even those who were already wounded still allowed the enemy machine gunners to easily shoot them down like rabbits.
"Ilaina, Klaus, you two go back to the dorm first. Let us take care of the paperwork."
Ilaina and I could only thank them, slowly heading back to the dorm and chatting about everything, even walking with our arms around each other's shoulders, like a pair of soulmates who couldn't be closer.
A moment later, Dimitri and the others returned. They even brought a ton of food to treat the group, a reward for surviving the suicidal assault. The preparation for the feast was even more difficult and complicated than carrying ammunition. After we finished, every one of us was drenched in sweat. There was a lot of food, indeed. Partly because Mikhail had stolen from our superiors, and the rest was picked up from Kuznetskozhyan prisoners.
As a result, we had a lavish pot of stew with beef, chicken, and pork, served with vegetables and canned fruit. The taste was beyond debate. It was absolutely wonderful. We quickly devoured the stew, all of us looking happy, eating with gusto. It had been a long time since I had been able to gather with my friends like this.
"Hey! When are we going to steal something again and have a feast like this, huh?" Mikhail joked while still chewing.
Dimitri immediately replied:
"No, no, and no. Your stealing could get me hung upside down and castrated by my superiors. If you want to eat next time, go pay for it. And you too, Victor, why did you have to rob the prisoners?"
Victor answered coldly:
"Go ask that sneaky Augusta. She bribed me so..."
To prevent the party from turning into a scolding session, Ilaina laughed and defended the bickering group.
"But if we didn't do that, how could we have this magnificent celebration, right? Everyone is eating so deliciously, too."
"Ah, that can't be denied. In any case, I have to praise you guys for giving us a meal like today. After all, I'm an accomplice, haha."
After two weeks of relocation and rest, the war heated up again. This time, we and the enemy were also planning to use even more terrible weapons. For example, chemical bombs and biological viruses. In the world, the nations on the Kuznetskozhyan side were being pushed back from the front lines by Altirustzkan Allied forces. Large and small-scale air, tank, and naval battles took place as a matter of course.
Because of this, the offensive tactics of both sides changed significantly. Artillery, aircraft, and tanks were now the main assault force, while the infantry simply waited for things to be handed to them, going in to take over liberated areas. But besides the scene of desolation and scattered corpses, there was nothing good here.
...
Right after gnawing on my shriveled piece of hardtack with a cup of water in the morning, the six of us in the squad began a new mission.
This time, my squad was assigned to check on a university that had just been recaptured. We were almost completely off guard, and this inspection mission was pointless—why patrol when it had been completely taken over? Maybe the commanders were hallucinating from inhaling Kuznetskozhyan toxic gas? God only knew.
Augusta complained indignantly:
"This sucks... I don't get why we have to do this. I thought the Air Force and Armor had everything covered?"
Victor immediately sneered:
"Have you seen the effects of a drug overdose?"
Entering the campus of what was once considered the most luxurious place in the world, it was even more desolate than we thought. In the middle of the schoolyard were the corpses of a Kuznetskozhyan platoon and a few armored vehicles. Notably, we also captured a T-72-80BVM tank that was still quite new, with only a few scratches. Mikhail ran over, yelling to the group:
"Hey everyone, how about a picture? This T-72 still looks brand new. It'll be so cool to take a picture with it!"
Augusta quickly invited everyone to join:
"Try it, isn't it great to take a picture with a war trophy once in a while?"
"Alright then, Victor, Ilaina, Klaus, what do you guys think?"
"We're fine with whatever."
So we took out our camera and took a picture. A photo with the full Kuznetskozhyan Freedom squad and the enemy's tank wreckage. But no one could have imagined that just a few hours after taking that photo, everything would take a very bad turn.
We had been ambushed by the enemy. However, they were not ordinary. They were the Spartarius soldiers, the most elite fighters of Kuznetskozhyan.
"This is the Kuznetskozhyan Freedom squad, calling Bravo Four! We are ambushed and suffering heavy losses at Ironniyum University. Requesting urgent reinforcement! Over!" Augusta frantically reported the situation to the support team.
Before that, after we were suddenly discovered by the ambushing Kuznetskozhyan troops, a fierce firefight broke out between the six of us and dozens of enemies. Outnumbered, we could only hide in a classroom, trying to fight back until reinforcements arrived. The sound of gunfire echoed everywhere. The classroom window where the group was besieged was shattered, but luckily the wall hadn't been breached yet, though it would soon be a bloody mess, I was sure. Bullets thundered behind us. Looking in any direction, we saw columns of dirt, rocks, and steel spurting up like fountains. A wide belt of fire and bullets surrounded us.
I raised my Mark-18 and sprayed bullets into the schoolyard, accidentally killing a few more before a barrage of 12.7 mm rounds hit me right in the mouth. The enemy was too numerous, and they had machine guns. I crouched behind the window and signaled for Victor to handle it. He carried his cannon, fired a rocket at the machine gun nest, and blew it up. Ilaina and Augusta were also busy handling the left flank, where the enemy was continuously charging. Captain Dimitri was struggling to support everyone.
After dealing with one group of enemy soldiers, I grabbed my gun and continued to track and kill the remaining Kuznetskozhyan troops. We hid behind every corner, every barbed wire pole, and threw clusters of grenades at the feet of those charging forward before retreating. The sharp explosion of the grenades hit our arms and legs hard. Crouching low like cats, we ran, immersed in a wave that carried us away, turning us into savages, into highwaymen, into murderers and even into demons—a wave that multiplied our strength in panic, anger, and the desire to live, a wave that sought to save our lives and claim us.
"The fire is fucking hot! Mikhail, do you have any more anti-personnel rounds?" Victor asked urgently.
"No, only anti-tank rounds. But don't use them yet. What if we run into a tank? Then we'd have to run with our pants down?"
"Exactly," Victor said with a faint laugh.
"These guys are so numerous! It's crazy."
But the strange thing was that these Kuznetskozhyan troops didn't charge mindlessly. They were very calculated and acted in a way that the Altirustzkan army often used. This forced us to concentrate more than usual if we wanted to hit them. How strange. Was this their way of trying to eliminate us?
"Damn it, not only are there a lot of enemies, but they also know how to dodge our bullets," Dimitri cursed.
After half an hour of being surrounded, the team was forced to relocate because our cover was destroyed. According to the map, we quickly found an escape staircase and used it to wear down the enemy's strength. We hid behind the stairs, taking turns pouring fire down on the enemy. One person would shoot while the other rested and reloaded.
Thanks to this simple tactic, the enemy suffered a lot of casualties. Later, they had to use artillery to attack. And of course, with our tiny guns, how could we possibly stand up to artillery? Of the thirty-six strategies, running is the best!
"Everyone! Retreat! Bravo is bullshitting us again! We haven't even seen them show their faces."
"I bet they're still busy flirting with Kuznetskozhyan prisoners now."
While running, we could still crack jokes, partly so we wouldn't die in agony, and partly to drive away the extreme tension.
Just then, a huge explosion hit right next to us, throwing me far away and slamming me against a wall. I felt a burning pain all over my body, my internal organs felt like they had burst. I could only lie there. Blood suddenly flowed from my forehead, dripping into my eyes and then my mouth. My body felt as if it had just been doused in hellish lava, hurting me to the core. It turned out I had been nearly hit by a mortar shell fired by a Spartarius soldier from Kuznetskozhyan. Kastov yelled:
"Motherfucker! Klaus! Ilaina, you take Klaus back! Hurry up!" Dimitri shouted.
Everyone in the squad was affected by the explosion, but I had shielded most of them, so none of them were seriously injured. Ilaina panicked, carried me on her back, and ran after the squad. But unfortunately, we were cut off from the rest of the group.
Facing the lives of both of us, Ilaina could only run to a different turn, successfully losing the enemy soldiers. But because my wounds were too severe, and my strength was significantly depleted, I passed out without knowing when.
When I woke up, it was already late, around midnight. I struggled to get up, trying to get my bearings. I realized I was in an abandoned house alone with Ilaina and had lost contact with the entire group. Ilaina was still fighting off sleep to stand guard for me. I looked at the wounds from the recent battle that had been temporarily bandaged, and I appreciated Ilaina even more.
"Are you okay, Ilaina? Where are we?"
"You're awake... I'm okay, I'm just a little sleepy. For now, we're in a safe, abandoned house. You should rest and get your strength back."
Looking at the tiredness in Ilaina's eyes, I put my hand on her head and gently rubbed it, saying softly:
"You're the one who needs to rest. I'm fine. You go to sleep, and I'll keep watch."
Hearing that, Ilaina didn't argue. She handed me the gun she was holding.
"I'll be counting on you then."
With that, Ilaina leaned her shoulder against me and fell asleep. I was surprised, a little startled by her natural attitude, but I didn't reject her. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of the building, gazing at the starry sky and thinking about everything.
Then, for some reason, the horrifying memories of 2012 came flooding back. That day was a very normal day. My family and I were having dinner like any other day. The TV was still replaying news about tensions at the border and provocative actions by the Predatorist private military organization against the Kuznetskozhyan army. After dinner, I asked my parents for permission to go to my best friend Rita's house to ask her to tutor me in foreign languages. Rita's image was such an old memory that I couldn't remember her face anymore. But I was sure that Rita was a cute, clever girl, and what was special was that Rita also had a beautiful, soft, bright platinum hair.
And then, the ethnic cleansing happened. By the time I got home, it was too late. Because he was Altirustzkan, my father was executed by those barbarians, and my mother was brutally killed. I was truly terrified and had to run for my life out of the house. Outside, there was chaos everywhere. The dead were too many to count. Carrying my blood-stained body to Rita's house, I only had time to ask her parents to bandage my wounds before I had to flee to Altirustzkan without leaving a message, even though Rita's house was very safe, not to mention her parents had high power and could have let me stay there with a new identity.
Since then, Rita and I lost touch and never saw each other again. The only thing we kept to recognize each other was the cross-shaped necklace we made and gave each other when we were little.
I had forgotten so many things...
She must have someone else by her side now. How pathetic. I should have stayed there. I really want to go back and punch myself back then. But if I did, my mixed-race identity would also cause trouble for Rita's family. Besides, everything has sunk into the past. Only the present and the future are laid out before me, and there is still someone here that I am too attached to to let go.
Now I have Ilaina by my side. Even though she's not Rita, she is a very important person to me. It's thanks to her that I've been able to get through this terrifying battlefield and continue to live.
The night deepened, and the temperature dropped. I saw Ilaina frown, so I guessed she was cold and took off my only jacket to cover both of us. I quietly watched Ilaina as she slept. My eyes traced every line on her small face. Ilaina's eyelashes drooped, hiding her eyes like a starry sea. Ilaina when she slept had a peaceful, obedient look, just like a kitten. I gently placed my hand on Ilaina's shoulder as if I was holding her, and I quietly let our heads touch, whispering softly:
"I won't abandon you. You can rest assured..."
"This heart of mine, which seems to know no love, has already skipped a beat because of you."