Aleksandr

Prologue: Cold

Waiting. So much waiting. As a sniper, patience had to be one of my strong suits. If you aren't you can and will fail. Looking away from your scope for even a second could mean failure. One wrong move could mean death, especially when fighting other snipers. Whoever moves first, loses. This was one such moment. I was positioned in a destroyed building, on the fourth floor, and a German sniper 400 meters downrange, across the small channel that divided our locations. I did not know where he was as of then and was searching for him. I kept a sharp eye out for anything that could indicate his presence, be it light reflecting from his rifle scope, movement, or his muzzle flash.

Where are you? I thought.

Seconds later, I saw a figure moving in an apartment 450 meters out. What are you doing...? My eyes widened when I took a closer look at what he was doing: he was on a radio. This was very bad news for me. He was either calling reinforcements, or an artillery strike. Both of which, I didn't like. Quickly, I aimed, and slowed my now fast breathing. I zeroed in on his head, calculated the bullet drop and began to fire. Slowly depressing the trigger, my rifle kicked back as the shot was fired. I saw a spray of blood and his body fall. Breathing a sigh of relief, I cycled the bolt, and rose to a crouch. Gotcha! Little did I know, I was too late, as he had finished his transmission.  My victory was short lived, as a series of distant booms were heard, as well as a sound you never want to hear: the whistle of falling artillery shells. Scrambling for my gear, I weighed my options, either take the stairs and be obliterated, or jump into the water. I chose the latter, and began to jump. Getting a running start, I ran to a hole in the wall, created by a tank shell. Before I could jump, the shells impacted the building, and the force sent me flying out into the cold water. Drifting away, I began to frantically swim to shore. Upon reaching it, I began to cough up the water I inhaled. Checking my gear, I found that I miraculously had it all, my Mosin Nagant, Tokarev, my knife, and my ammo belt, which contained 20 rounds of 7.62x54mmR, 36 rounds of 7.62x25 Tokarev, in addition to the ammunition in my current magazines. Slinging my rifle to my back, I drew my pistol, and climbed up into the street. I then remembered I had more pressing matters: I was in the open, and I was soaked through with icy water. Shivering, I ran to the nearest building. I pulled out my old lighter, and found some pieces of broken wood to burn. I had to make the fire in a discreet location, so I chose an alleyway, witch had rubble blocking both sides. Perfect. As long as I stay quiet, I should be able to remain hidden. The rubble is piled high enough to keep me away from any prying eyes of Germans. Quickly lighting the fire, I took off some of my gear to let it dry, as I huddled next to the small flame. I opened one of my small field rations, and began to eat. Finishing my tiny meal, I began to feel drowsy. I went around the perimeter, setting makeshift traps such as tripwires, and "bone chimes" made of cans. Slowly shuffling back to the fire, I laid down, and let sleep overtake me.

//\

Jolting awake, I snatched up my pistol, and began to search the building. I had been woken by one of my can chimes rattling. Peeking around the corner, I saw a Wehrmacht soldier field stripping his Sturmgewehr 44.

What is wrong with him? Doesn't he know he activated a trap? Well, It's his mistake.

I approached the oblivious man, and drew my knife. Creeping up to him, I waited for him to finish. It was a miracle he didn't turn around. This guy was a complete idiot, in my opinion. He clumsily put his assault rifle back together, and I lunged at him. Locking him in a chokehold, I whispered in his ear. "Auf Wiedersehen."

The man's eyes widened, and I plunged my blade into his heart, before yanking his dog tags off. Stuffing the metal ovals into my pocket, I watched the man fall to the ground. Dead. I picked up his weapon, checking the magazine. I patted him down, taking his ammunition belt, with a total of 120 extra rounds of 7.92x33. Checking his other equipment, I found something odd. He was carrying a Tokarev TT-33, the same sidearm I had. While this was strange how he was carrying a Russian-made pistol, it was convenient that I now had 16 extra Tokarev rounds. I went back to my camp, and donned my now dried combat gear. I slung my rifle on my back, holstered my pistol, and shouldered my newfound automatic rifle. I kicked dust onto the remains of the fire, and left the building. I continued to walk along the street, gun at the ready, keeping an eye out for Germans. I began to think about my friends, my family, and just the war in general. Little did I know, I had made the worst mistake of life. I let my mind wander away from my current task, and paid the ultimate price. I heard a loud crack, and felt a stabbing pain in my chest. Looking down, I noticed I was bleeding profusely from a large hole in my right lung.

No... No... NO! This can't be it! I want to see my family again! I want to laugh with my friends once more! I don't want to die... I thought as my whole life flashed before my eyes, from my early childhood, my adolescence, my adulthood, and the war.

As the life drained from my body, I fell to my knees. My last thoughts, were of home... Of how I will never return to it. I began to cough up massive amounts of blood, and my vision began to fade.