Tuesday, May 14, 2013
St . Petersburg, Russia
1LT L. Reed, US Army
Hell can take this whole decaying city with my blessing. Every day comrades become hurt, missing, or dead, and I see Death looming closer with every breath this cesspool takes. I do not belong here. My squad (even the doctor, Dr. Erik McCreedy, who has been recruited as a medic) continues to speak in a language I cannot even begin to comprehend. They speak in terms of bullets and blood, while I long to return to my quiet world of engines and wrenches. I see no end to the war, and I have no idea when I will be free to finally find my family again. I have had no word in over a year, and my prayers seem to be bouncing off a glass wall between Heaven and Earth.
I find myself with an unwanted promotion to commanding officer to my small squad, the previous officer having entered into whatever afterlife he believed in. On top of the unwanted responsibility, we were briefed on a mission today. Apparently the locals have become restless despite the good relations (in general) between them and us. They are acquiring guns (AK’s to be exact) and turning them on us. My squad was given a sector of the city to search and question with permission to retaliate should anyone open fire on us.
Our small squad of seven plus one interpreter left shortly after the briefing. After denying the doctor driving privileges to the Humvee (I’m fairly certain the man has never even driven a Dodge in the course of his life), and with the grunts taking point, we soon arrived in our sector. We were able to score some information through the doctor as he treated several of the locals. I’ll never understand why he chose a profession in which he treats the illness of others. He doesn’t seem to like people at all.
We were directed to a farm a few blocks away owned by Dimitri Korokov. Mr. Korokov had apparently dealt personally with the rebels after some trouble on his land. We arrived at the Korokov farm to find an incredibly old and sarcastic Russian man. He seemed to find our questioning both amusing and annoying. The cynical farmer even went so far as to believe he could take on the rebels with what looked like an antiquated firearm.
While several of us questioned Mr. Korokov, the rest of the team ran a sweep of his farm. They spotted movement across the street in an abandoned house that looked as if a strong wind would tumble the whole thing down. After some deliberation, the doctor and I were set up as a distraction. The doctor promptly tried driving off with the humvee, and it took almost more self control than I possess to not club the man with the butt of my H&K. Several of our team in the meantime, swung around to the back of the house. What felt like an eternity passed as I tried not to imagine my men being found and shot, before shots could be heard from the house. Shouts soon told us that our people were ok and had the situation under control. Leaving Ramirez in charge of the humvee, McCreedy and I jogged over to find they had captured a Russian deserter. Sgt Gregor Kruschev did not seem to possess much information in regards to the enemy even after a few knocks with the butt of my machine gunner’s stock. I gritted my teeth at the treatment, but it seemed to make Kruschev talk so I let it go this once. Denying my squad the chance to beat the poor man (who seemed hungry, exhausted, and scared), I bound his hands and feet with duct tape.
I never bought into the Treat-Your-Enemies-Like-Mud sort of mentality. Kruschev was bundled into the back of the humvee and we headed to a security checkpoint to drop him off so the higher ups could question him more fully. My squad seemed appalled by this idea and called for his death or torture on the spot. Blood and bullets…
Before we could reach the checkpoint, we were opened fire upon by a sniper hidden away in an abandoned apartment building. Naturally my squad runs right in to confront the sniper. We had no idea how many of the enemy there were, and they certainly had the advantage with knowing where we were. I tried to drive out, but the humvee was shot, causing engine damage. We also lost our interpreter, one more man who won’t draw breath because of this curse of a war.
My squad was quickly out of my sight. I could only hope and pray they kept each other alive. I cut the tape around Kruschev’s ankles. I got him behind the vehicle, wanting him to stay alive because of the information he may carry, and then radioed in our predicament. Reinforcements were on the way, but it would be several minutes before they could arrive. I watched the street, and surrounding buildings as the sound of gunfire ripped through the air. I saw several Russians drop as my men swept through the building. Movement in the corner of my eye alerted me to a Russian sneaking behind me. He hadn’t noticed me yet, and with a short burst of fire from my H&K his knee gave out and he dropped. I felt sick at the sound of lead hitting bone, but my men were more important than my immediate comfort. A few seconds later and all gunfire ended.
We had escaped unscathed. They brought a Russian down with them, one who had surrendered, and McCreedy was able to stabilize the one I dealt with. Hopefully with the three Russians, HQ would find the information they were looking for. For now, the mess is calling. I will finish later.
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