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IVAN BRAGINSKY.
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BATTLE OF TANNENBERG 1914.
// …
A bullet skid right past the side of the house Ivan took cover behind. He grasped his gun firmly, his breath becoming increasingly ragged. Ivan glanced around frantically, catching sight of none of his comrades.
He huffed in discontent, but still knew that he had to keep advancing to the objective until instructed to retreat. But to be honest, Ivan wasn’t sure of what General Samsonov’s intentions were, now that the Germans had a clear advantage.
He swiftly passed through numerous of open spots that could get him shot easily, avoiding bullets left and right, finding safety behind a few alright sandbags. Ivan held his breath, pushing his knees up against his chest securely, reaffirming his firearm better against his chest and letting his breath calm down. The feeling of a body suddenly slid next to Ivan, he turned his head to see who it was.
It seemed like Vanya had come. His friendly and polite comrade since the start of the war.
“Привет.”
Vanya greeted in a breathy voice, he looked to have trouble catching his breath as he fumbled to reload his rifle.
“Привет, Ваня.”
Ivan responded, his eyes tracking Vanya’s movements. Vanya swallowed thickly and let out a steep breath.
“It’s quite the, scene… out there..”
Ivan nodded and agreed.
“Yeah, definitely. But.. are you alright?
Vanya glanced to both sides of him, crouching at the fronts of his feet.
“Yeah, I’m just trying to... get closer, I’ll see if I can, see you on the other side then.”
Ivan watched as Vanya slid out just as easily as he slid in, whispering a quiet goodbye that Vanya probably hadn’t heard.
Ivan shifted his gaze down at his lap and gun, withdrawing a deep breath and releasing it slowly, the smell of burnt gunpowder lingered in his nose. He let out another breath, reassuring himself that he’ll come out of this battle alive. He began to eye the end of a pile of sandbags. The coast looked to be clear, but Ivan knew that not everything looked as clear as it seems, especially in war.
Ivan’s fingertips groped at the crevices of his weapon, and he made a dash for the pile of sandbags, firing a few shots at the opposing side before settling in. He looked to his left and saw a small-scale looking forest. Ivan recalled the words, “Push through the trees, the objective should be in an arms reach.”
He swiftly made his way into the forest, lowly crawling, cautious that the snipers may get him. After a few seconds of crawling, Ivan discovered the end of the short lived shrubbery.
His fingers pushed back a bush of leaves, uncovering where more of the battle continued. The objective really was just in an arm’s reach, Ivan could see the hill.
Spotting another good cover, Ivan promptly sprinted to it. He immediately reloaded his firearm. When nothing came out, he was quick to realize that he was out of ammunition. Instantly, Ivan shoved his hands deep into his pockets to find more, however, to his demise, he felt nothing but the fabric of his pockets.
Ivan laid back against his cover firmly, clicking his tongue in defeat.
“Are you out too?”
A Russian soldier asked Ivan, hiding behind a nearby wagon that tilted over in its tracks.
Ivan nodded.
“Yeah, how about you?”
The soldier responded with another nod.
“Yup.”
There was a brief pause before the soldier began speaking again.
“Samsonov is telling us we need to retreat. Like now.”
Ivan felt it coming anyway.
The Russian soldier readjusted his gun to sit on his back.
“Well, I’m gonna start heading back, see you.”
Ivan nodded and began to prepare as well, shifting his gun to rest on his back too.
But it was a tiring battle, and Ivan was ready to head home, to see his sisters again and be in their warm embraces’. They felt so far away, like he could see them, but never quite touch them.
He felt as though his morale was always this low. As he spent more time looking at the house in front of him, the distance between his cover and the house seemed to part farther by the second. Ivan didn’t think he could make it, his focus shifted to his aching legs and his pounding chest, his uniform felt too tight around him, and his rifle felt too heavy on his back. He wondered why he felt like this all the sudden. Ivan shook off the thought and laid back, too many things were occurring at once. It was too difficult to make such an energy-wasting retreat. Maybe he should just pass away here.
It wasn’t a rare resting place for these past few months.
He shut his eyes, letting exhaustion take
over his body and mind, Ivan paid his last farewells, picturing his sisters, drinking lukewarm stew next to a crackling fireplace. Blissfully unaware of his predicament.
…
The lingering scent of smoke still wafted through the air once Ivan made his gradual awakening. He placed a supporting hand on the gravel under him, hoisting himself up from the ground.
His violet eyes that once sparkled so lively dimmed to a dark purple, he looked at the corpses that spread around the vast rural landscape. Ivan looked down in shame and readjusted his gun around his shoulder before beginning his stroll along the lined pathway that extended over the setting horizon. He watched as the dulled sunlight casted long shadows over the ground from the tall trees that reached up to the ombré sky. Ivan paid attention to the crunch of the gravel under his boots as he slowly walked. He kicked a few rocks out of his way, observing the dead bodies surrounding the battle ground. Ivan started to sidetrack off of the path, deviating to the left, where the Russians had charged in from, he sauntered around the corpses, suddenly halting at one.
The face ringed familiar in Ivan’s mind, he looked closer and recognized them as the Russian soldier who had warned Ivan about the army’s retreat. Ivan unclipped his helmet and rested it on his own chest, paying respects. He proceeded to survey the grass for a flower, he wasn’t expecting to find one, but to his surprise he did. Ivan plucked it out of the ground and knelt down to set it on the soldier’s chest and closed the soldier’s eyes as well. He rose up, taking a last look at the deceased soldier before continuing.
His tracks were once again stopped at another Russian causality, this time it was the bloody face of Vanya, the crimson red splattered among his uniform, staining it with the solemn wrath of war. Ivan knelt down again and did just what he did for the other Russian soldier in order to pay respects. He placed his fingers over Vanya’s eyelids’, pressing them down so he could sleep in an eternal rest. Ivan then unclipped Vanya’s helmet, setting it down on his chest, taking Vanya’s right hand and easing it onto his helmet. Ivan lowered his head silently before continuing to tread amongst the gravel pathway. Along the way, Ivan swiped a deck of cards from a German soldier’s pocket, he shifted the cards into his pocket and carried on with proceeding on the path.
The remote beeping of Morse code could be audible in the distance, signifying that the Russian objective was close. As Ivan reached the top of the hill, he found some sandbags to take a seat on.
He glanced at the radio beside to him, the beeping of Morse code symbolized nothing anymore, now that no soldier was there to receive and execute it. Ivan turned the knob of the radio to the right, switching channels until he heard a familiar Russian tune softly gracing the air.
Finally, the violence of war toned down as the mellow voice of home and family strung its self into the once aggressive battlefield. Ivan watched as his shadow imprinted itself onto the long grass, slowly waving side to side with the winds melody.
“Sleep my darling tiny one
Tucked within your bed so tight
Else the old grey wolf will come
And grab you by your side..”
Ivan watched around the vacant countryside, he played with the deck of cards he took from that German soldier a few minutes ago. He flipped the cards, shuffled them, and let them flow in the wind one by one, spinning them into the air. He observed while the card gradually descended to the ground. Hid eyes examined the houses, maybe at one point they were bustling with people, but war forced them out to become vacant and destroyed. Nevertheless, there perhaps were residents at one point, in one time, before this whole mess emerged.
Ivan remained sat on those saggy sandbags, observing the sight in front of him, letting the sun brilliantly shine through, feeling the wind ruffle his finally free hair.
Undeniable sorrow that felt bearable, under this SILENCE.
xx.
HISTORICAL HETALIA.
WWI, TANNENBERG, 1914
GERMANY V. RUSSIA
FIN.