For The Motherland, and into...

***Katyusha

“Rastsvetali iabloni i grushi,

Poplyli tumany nad rekoj.

Vykhodila na bereg Katyusha,

Na vysokij bereg na krutoj.

Vykhodila, pesniu zavodila

Pro stepnogo, sizogo orla,

Pro togo, kotorogo liubila,

Pro togo, chi pisma beregla.

Oj ty, pesnia, pesenka devichia,

Ty leti za iasnym solntsem vsled.

I bojtsu na dalnem pograniche

Ot Katyushi peredaj privet.

Pust on vspomnit devushku prostuiu,

Pust uslyshit, kak ona poet,

Pust on zemliu berezhet rodnuiu,

A liubov Katyusha sberezhet.”

{Translation}

Apple and pear trees were a-blooming,

Mist (was) creeping on the river.

Katyusha set out on the banks

On the steep and lofty bank

She was walking, singing a song

About a grey steppe eagle,

About her true love,

Whose letters she was keeping.

Oh you song! Little song of a maiden,

Head for the bright sun.

And reach for the soldier on the far-away border

Along with greetings from Katyusha.

Let him remember an ordinary girl,

And hear how she sings,

Let him preserve the Motherland,***

Same as Katyusha preserves their love.

“Keep shooting! Don’t Give An Inch!” Shouted the Russian Captain.

Bullets pelted in a hail of death from the German side. Already both sides had suffered heavy casualties. The Nazis were biding time for their Panzers’ to arrive. One soldier pulled the pin on his grenade and tossed it over cover into the open area.

Shrapnel burst forth from the fire and dirt. The Russians weren’t attacking, they were holding fast in their half of the city. They couldn’t afford anymore of their space to be lost, or else. They would lose the battle to a full. And that, they could not allow.

‘Most men think war will be fun,’ Viktor began in his mind.

Viktor was secluded in a ruined fire-station. Alone and with only two clips left he was most assured to be a dead man.

‘For the Motherland we cry, it is how to make a man of yourself, but they never told us that we’d be living like dogs, they never told us that we’d find near skeletal children kicking balls of ash around. They never told us we wouldn’t have time to bandage our wounds when we needed to most,’ He held his head as bullets smashed through the thin burnt walling around him.

‘They never said we would lose friends.’

{Sixteen days previous}

‘They never said we’d make the best friends of our lives.’

“Hello, I’m Viktor Dursk, and you would be?”

“Petr Kretscmann,” The Russian replied, giving Viktor a firm Handshake.

“Got smoke on you Vik?” Petr asked.

Viktor quickly searched through his own pockets for his cigarettes. He soon collected his small packet of cigarettes and held one out for Petr to grab. Petr was a tall muscular but soft featured man, his eyes were uniform blue and his hair was dirty blonde. He smiled and grabbed the smoke. Putting it in his mouth and lighting it.

“So Vik, where you come from?” Petr asked between puffs.

Viktor followed suite and lit himself a cigarette.

“Leningrad, before...”

“It turned to shithole? Same story here,” Petr cut Viktor off, taking a long drag on his smoke.

‘Petr Was ill mannered at best, but he was still a proverbial Rasputin with the ladies.’

“So Vik, how is health?” Petr asked.

Viktor looked at him, then back at the floor of the transport truck. He let out a dry laugh.

“Horrible, I have to freeze ass off in truck while the others get to get supplie in warm building.”

Petr chuckled.

“True, true!”

The two had a short laugh for a few moments. One of the solemn few moments of true happiness in the hailstorm of war they were in.

“You are funny man Vik, I like you,” Petr said, shouldering Viktor.

“Yes, very many of friends back home think I am funny man.”

For a few moments the two sat in silence, smoking their tobacco filled tubes of paper. Blowing smoke rings for their own amusement and enjoyment. The cold air seemed to get lighter than the mood that war sets in.

“You have girl back home?” Petr asked.

Viktor took a moment to process the question. He hadn’t expected such a question at the moment.

“Uh, N-no, I mean, I would, it just... Well.”

“You not Rasputin,” Petr Interjected.

“Exactly.”

An akward silence fell over the two. They passed the minutes finishing their smokes and blowing smoke rings.

‘A short while after we became good friends, I saved his life twice. But two days later, he saved mine. But it cost his own, and that I still wish went the other way.’

{Eight Days Later}

Bullets hailed in short bursts, several krauts were holed up in an abandoned apartment building. Petr, Viktor and a couple more were ordered to assault the building and either kill or capture the krauts.

Viktor took point with his pistol and light machine-gun, Petr trailed somewhat behind him. They had locked into a fire-fight with the krauts. And the Germans were holding in tight. The fire-fight went on for a couple hours. Until.

A single kraut had disappeared from where he was standing previous. He then appeared in the hallway adjacent to Viktor Petr was just next to Viktor and couldn’t get the shot, he had only one option.

To stand, and shoot.

‘He stood upright and unloaded his magazine into the dark corridor, peppering a kraut as he did. One of the Germans sprayed his chest with lead from his weapon. Petr fell to the floor, gaping like a fish, trying to breathe. I crawled over to him.’

“V-Vik, How, b-bad?” Petr managed to gasp out.

Viktor looked at his dear friend, at the multiple wounds to the chest. Blood was seeping through his shirt and onto the floor. The others had taken the chance to pop the one that got up. A couple sweeped around using the same way the German did.

“You’re going to be fine Petr, just hang in there.”

Petr looked at Viktor with Such sincerity that it would have required a man with no soul to lie to him.

“How, Bad?”

“I doubt you’ll be here in a few hours,” Viktor Replied.

Petr lazily moved his hand into his pocket and pulled a picture out.

“This is my boy Vik, his name is Dmitry,” Petr choked.

“He is a beautiful boy Petr.”

“He has your eyes,” Petr said absently.

Viktor Laughed slightly.

“Yes, but I bet he has the courage of his father,” he claimed.

Petr coughed some blood into his hand, he didn’t have very long.

“H-he hates sweets, isn’t that strange?”

Viktor could see the fear in Petr’s eyes, he was afraid of what would come next.

“Heh, I would assume,” Viktor said.

“But he loves his vegetables, don’t you find that funny?”

“A little.”

Petr coughed again. Viktor had grabbed his hand as he kneeled over him.

“You are good man Petr,” Viktor said.

“N-no, I-i not, have killed many men,” Petr said.

“But you saved countless.”

With that, Petr smiled, a few moments before dying. He was looking directly at the ceiling now.

Bullets hailed through the walls of the fire-station. Viktor shouted something profane in Russian before throwing a grenade out the window.

“I will kill you fucking kraut assholes!” He screamed.

Viktor stood and sprayed bullets out the window before dropping down again. He unpinned another grenade and tossed it.

‘I will fight until my last breath!’ he shouted in his mind.

Several Germans burst through the door, Viktor capped off three shots before rolling to the left, one of the Germans sprayed a half clip of bullets at Viktor as he rolled, hitting his leg. Viktor then shouted and fired off another four shots.

He unloaded the clip and pulled a new one out. Another German charged in from behind him. Viktor and the German tumbled to the floor, the German trying to strangle Viktor, who deftly slogged him in the jaw.

The German rolled along the floor and jumped up. Viktor stood.

“I am Viktor ‘Ogon’byk’, Fire Bull, and I will kill you.”

The kraut charged, Viktor threw the magazine to his pistol up in the air between them and used his gun to catch the clip on the German’s forehead. It was pure luck that it connected when it did. Bringing the German down in a pile.

Viktor pulled the slide of his pistol back and then fired a round into the German’s head. He then crouched and moved into the next room. He heard several more German’s bust in. He closed the door to the room and leaned against the door.

He heard a Kraut shout something, then a hail shots crashed through the thin wooden door between Viktor and the German squad, Several pierced through his torso, arm and leg. He collapsed gasping heavily, blood oozing through the wounds. He could almost hear voices singing -There March the Soldiers as his world turned black.

Viktor gasped awake in a large clearing, his vision was extremely impaired, blurred, darkened. He could barely see, his mouth was dry. His throat burned. He gulped, trying to stop the burning. His ears rung loudly.

His legs and arms felt heavy. He blinked several times, the area seemed clear at most. His clothing was still there, his thick overcoat was still there. His officers cap was still present. As well as his semi-automatic, his shotgun and his pistol, including the stinging pain of where the bullets had penetrated his left arm and leg.

He looked around for several moments, his head pounded. Where was he?

“Zdravstvyte?” He called out, his voice rougher and scratchier than normal.

His eyelids felt heavy, he seemed in no immediate, danger, and he could barely keep himself awake. He slowly lowered himself back to the floor. Letting himself fall asleep.

He awoke five to six hours later to the sound of several ladies screaming, and the roar of what sounded to be a Panzer, or the sound of a fireball after a large explosion.

Viktor sat up and looked around for a moment, confused for a moment. He then allowed himself several moments to stand, balancing out. Another scream resounded. Viktor, gathering his wits managed to figure which direction the sound was coming from.

He equipped his shotgun and charged in the direction, which led into a dense forest. Viktor jumped over several large roots with jagged spikes and ducked under low hanging branches until he reached another clearing.

But what he saw confused him extremely.

It was a massive black spider with massive jagged limbs that looked like knives.

Viktor stepped back into the underbrush and observed the creature for a few moments. It seemed to be webbing some creatures into a large sack. The creatures of which, seemed to be letting out muffled cries for help.

Viktor then began to load his shotgun, he fumbled to push the casing into the loading slot and dropped one.

“Blyad!” He muttered, crouching to grab the casing.

He stood and loaded it into the shotgun.

Six rounds, six chances. Viktor turned and took aim for the creature, and fired a round off into the air.

The creature looked at him with hundreds of beady, dark ivory eyes locked on Viktor. It then let out a roar, similar to the one Viktor had heard earlier, the creature did seem to have a mouth, filled with thousands of rotating rows of razor sharp teeth.

Viktor paused for a second, to second guess his decision to attack the creature that could and would rip him limb from limb. But he shook his head and continued to walk forward as the creature charged.

Viktor then paused as the creature, standing four foot taller than him, jumped at him. He had a split second to drop to the ground as it sailed over him, roaring like a monster. It smashed into the ground and tore up dirt as it went. Viktor quickly stood and trained his sights on the creature’s head.

As soon as it came back within range, and dived at him again he pulled the trigger. He relaxed his upper body allowing the recoil to throw him back. The massive spider creature smashed into the ground as Viktor from the force of the gunshot was sent back a few feet.

When Viktor stood back up the creatures head was in bits, brain matter stained the ground. Viktor unloaded the last four rounds into the creature’s body. Before returning his attention to the mass of  squirming creatures. He dropped his shotgun to the side and ran over to the possibly human creatures in the large woven silk sack.

He drew his long combat knife and began to cut at the thick spider silk fibres. Carefully avoiding the silent cries for help from the people entrapped in the mass silken sack.

He soon cut the last fibres of the sack and stepped away to watch the people exit the massive sack.

The first thing that emerged from the web Viktor almost mistook for a miniature horse. But when it stretched out a pair of wings, the same grey colour of the creature he knew it was much different.

The creature, had a lazy eye, though Viktor could not tell which, It’s, according to Viktor’s Equine anatomy knowledge, Mane was coloured blonde, like a Nazi soldier. It’s eyes an amber yellow-gold.

Roughly three more creatures, one similar, two with no wings but one with a horn, exited the sack. Viktor was Perplexed at where the voices came from.

He scratched his head as the four creatures moved in front of him. Viktor stepped past them and lifted the opening of the web sack and searched through it for a moment.

“Was I hearing this voices?” He asked aloud in English.

He scratched his head and continued to search the sack. But he stopped when a female voice said.

“Thank you for saving us.”

Viktor closed one eye and tilted his head to the right, before turning. He blinked his other eye and then looked at the four creatures that were originally behind him.

They seemed to be looking... Grateful. Viktor scratched his head and pushed past the creatures.

“Where are you?” He said aloud.

Looking around the clearing.

“Are you looking for something?” another feminine voice asked.

Viktor looked at the creatures again. They seemed, now, very confused.

“Is joke?” Viktor asked.

“What joke?” The grey winged horse creature asked.

Viktor blinked, leaning forwards and crouching. He reached forward and moved the creature’s head about, looking for a radio or something that could have made the sound of speaking.

Viktor then sat squat on his haunches.

“Is trained good Yankees, lips move in correct time and everything, but where is radio?”

“What are you talking about?” One of the horned creatures asked.

Viktor looked the creature up and down.

It was coloured like spearmints that Viktor had bought for a few rubl’s at a time as a child, a light spearmint green for an ‘equine’ coat, with the same colour striped through a mane that also had a white stripe. It’s horn was the same colour as it’s coat.

Viktor smiled.

“Is magic trick Yankees? You good magicians, but no Viktor no like joke, come out we talk.”

“What’s a Yankee?” The grey horse creature asked.

Viktor looked at the four creatures, this wasn’t some American illusion. The two that weren’t speaking with him were talking to each other, arguing it seemed.

“Is real?” Viktor asked.

The green horned horse nodded.

Viktor scratched his chin.

“So,” He began, balancing his head on his thumb, “I dead... this correct?”

The creature shook it’s head.

“I’m pretty sure your alive, seeing as you, did whatever you did to the arachnid,” It said.

Viktor chuckled lightly.

“So if not dead, where I?”

“Equestria.”