his chest. He'd been one of the earlier prisoners and over time he'd picked up some Russian words, but he was no way fluent in the language.
“How much further, Master Sergeant?” an unknown voice asked.
“About two kilometers, why? Do you have a date or meeting you must attend?”
The unknown voice laughed and replied, “I wish I did have a date, but no, I dislike being out here with just the four of us. If we run into partisans, we'll not be able to fight long.”
“We are too close to the gulag to encounter the resistance, or so I think. There is no one out here.” the Master Sergeant said.
A third voice said, “I see blood on the grass here.”
The Colonel's heart began to beat loud and hard. He knew if they got any nearer to him they'd hear it pounding in his chest.
“It is likely someone escaped the gulag or a wounded partisan came this way. We are infantry soldiers, not camp guards, so the blood is no business of ours.” the Master Sergeant said.
“There is more blood here, moving away from camp.”
“Corporal Babin, we are not paid to search for runaway prisoners. We are soldiers in the infantry and we fight partisans.”
Lowering his head, Babin replied, “I was just thinking we would return heroes if we brought back a prisoner.”
“Forget it and continue moving toward the camp. Intelligence needs to know about the partisans attacking us in a large group and the killing of my men. Let the guards worry about prisoners.”
“As you wish, Master Sergeant.”
Damn me, that was too close, the Colonel thought as he heard the Russians moving away from his position. After about twenty minutes he stood and began to move south again.
The gate guard at the gulag looked at Master Sergeant Rusak as if he were a ghost and said, “We heard you and all your troops were killed.”
“Open the gate, Private, because I am tired, hungry and need a strong drink. As you can see, the four of us are very much alive, but all are injured.”
The guard quickly unlocked the padlock, pulled the chain and said, “All of you need to come with me to the duty officer. I am not sure how to handle this.”
“Lead the way, so I can get some medical treatment and then rest.” Rusak replied.
Finally, after two long hours with intelligence going over the attack, he was issued a quart of vodka by his doctor and sent to his quarters. He had a long shower, ate a hot meal in the mess hall, and then returned to his room where he now sipped his strong drink. This war is much like the war in Vietnam that the Americans fought so many years ago. I do not understand why Moscow cannot see we will never win this conflict. The people all look alike, the general population supports the resistance, and each time we kill an innocent person the people are greatly angered. I do not think our intelligence ever considered the number of guns all Americans owned before we invaded. I read, where was that, I can not remember, but there were two guns for every person. Only a foolish country would invade a well armed nation. I think since the American government collapsed, our intelligence suspected they would be easy to bring under control, but it will never happen. I miss you, Esfir, he thought. He then knocked a half glass of vodka down and stretched out on his bed. He was asleep in minutes.
He awoke a couple of hours later, still tired and with his shoulder wound throbbing. He took a pain pill the doctor had given him and washed it down with a sip of vodka, which the doctor had warned him not to do. Almost immediately he grew sleepy and before he was aware of it, he was asleep again.
Near the end of the day he awoke, but felt drugged from the pill, so he remained in his room and nibbled at a ration he had in his wall locker. When his pain grew too intense, he put the pills in a drawer and poured four fingers of Vodka in a water glass. He knocked the drink back and then smiled as the potent alcohol burned all
“How much further, Master Sergeant?” an unknown voice asked.
“About two kilometers, why? Do you have a date or meeting you must attend?”
The unknown voice laughed and replied, “I wish I did have a date, but no, I dislike being out here with just the four of us. If we run into partisans, we'll not be able to fight long.”
“We are too close to the gulag to encounter the resistance, or so I think. There is no one out here.” the Master Sergeant said.
A third voice said, “I see blood on the grass here.”
The Colonel's heart began to beat loud and hard. He knew if they got any nearer to him they'd hear it pounding in his chest.
“It is likely someone escaped the gulag or a wounded partisan came this way. We are infantry soldiers, not camp guards, so the blood is no business of ours.” the Master Sergeant said.
“There is more blood here, moving away from camp.”
“Corporal Babin, we are not paid to search for runaway prisoners. We are soldiers in the infantry and we fight partisans.”
Lowering his head, Babin replied, “I was just thinking we would return heroes if we brought back a prisoner.”
“Forget it and continue moving toward the camp. Intelligence needs to know about the partisans attacking us in a large group and the killing of my men. Let the guards worry about prisoners.”
“As you wish, Master Sergeant.”
Damn me, that was too close, the Colonel thought as he heard the Russians moving away from his position. After about twenty minutes he stood and began to move south again.
The gate guard at the gulag looked at Master Sergeant Rusak as if he were a ghost and said, “We heard you and all your troops were killed.”
“Open the gate, Private, because I am tired, hungry and need a strong drink. As you can see, the four of us are very much alive, but all are injured.”
The guard quickly unlocked the padlock, pulled the chain and said, “All of you need to come with me to the duty officer. I am not sure how to handle this.”
“Lead the way, so I can get some medical treatment and then rest.” Rusak replied.
Finally, after two long hours with intelligence going over the attack, he was issued a quart of vodka by his doctor and sent to his quarters. He had a long shower, ate a hot meal in the mess hall, and then returned to his room where he now sipped his strong drink. This war is much like the war in Vietnam that the Americans fought so many years ago. I do not understand why Moscow cannot see we will never win this conflict. The people all look alike, the general population supports the resistance, and each time we kill an innocent person the people are greatly angered. I do not think our intelligence ever considered the number of guns all Americans owned before we invaded. I read, where was that, I can not remember, but there were two guns for every person. Only a foolish country would invade a well armed nation. I think since the American government collapsed, our intelligence suspected they would be easy to bring under control, but it will never happen. I miss you, Esfir, he thought. He then knocked a half glass of vodka down and stretched out on his bed. He was asleep in minutes.
He awoke a couple of hours later, still tired and with his shoulder wound throbbing. He took a pain pill the doctor had given him and washed it down with a sip of vodka, which the doctor had warned him not to do. Almost immediately he grew sleepy and before he was aware of it, he was asleep again.
Near the end of the day he awoke, but felt drugged from the pill, so he remained in his room and nibbled at a ration he had in his wall locker. When his pain grew too intense, he put the pills in a drawer and poured four fingers of Vodka in a water glass. He knocked the drink back and then smiled as the potent alcohol burned all
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