/lit/ - Literature

The hardest part was when we fought our own...

In the four week long fight for the outer districts of Odessa, American zogbots were deployed to arrange against us. We knew they were coming about a week in advance, because the old "starshynia", in his broken English, had given us proper warning. He sent the Priest over to us, who muttered some soft prayers in Russian, but it wasn't enough to cool our hearts.

I remember Private Riley sobbing that night. His brother had entered the Zogs' years ago, and would likely be deployed along with the other NATO invaders to attack Russian holdings in the former Ukraine along with the rest of the traitors in the 82nd airborne. Although we knew they had to be destroyed, it was still our first encounter with our own kind. Up to this point, we'd only ever shot hohols, Polaks, Romanians, Belarusians, even a few Lithuanian fascists here and there. But Americans? This would be something different...

... (later on)

It was a somber sight to see. Bodies, some already stiff solid in the freezing air, scattered across the winter grave. It looked like fallen angels had settled down in this hellhole they call Ukraine. Americans, dead alongside Americans. It had been a hard fight, but the superiority of Russian spirit and our own will drove us to victory.

The Old Starshynia called me over, "You speak. Bring to us prisoner."

I was shocked. We'd stopped taking hohols after they had killed so many of our own guys. I was prepared to do the same, even against my own. But at his order, I felt a slight relief.

I could see the remnants of the 82nd Airborne patrol in the woodline, holding a white rag on a stick. I broke cover despite my comrades urging me to stay low.

"Them NAFO trannys will kill you." Muttered Briggs, who always took the path of the cynic.

I ignored him and pressed on, cautiously moving to No Man's Land. I was met face to face with an American soldier, he was tall, lean, haggard, with a face covered in ash and blood.

"Major Finn Riley, 82nd Airborne." He said, crestfallen.

"Riley? Brother of Matt Riley?" I asked.

The Major's eyes widened, "How did..."

"He's with us, Major. We're all together."

"You mean he's alive?"

"He's never been better, and I reckon he will be overjoyed to see you. Tell your men to come out, the Russians are fair, honest warriors who respect your courage. You'll be treated fairly." I pressed him.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment and sighed, "Alright."

He called his men out, who had their hands raised. We stood off to the side to allow our Russian hosts to start gathering him.

"Slava Putina!" We yelled, "Death to the West!"

I swore I saw some of the GI's mutter it too.