2014

   INJUSTICE

                                                  October 21st, 1941

                                               kgb training camp, Vologda

         Winter. The worst season of the year. We Russian call it the “time of the wolves” or the “devil’s season”.

Last year, president Karwoski died, killed by a pack of white wolves.

    I was driving to the only KGB training camp in Vologda, which was the “Omega I”, after the nuclear base in Magnitogorsk.

    My wife died 25 days ago, after giving birth to my only child, a son, Vladimir Bransburg. My brother came to her burial 19 days ago, which is when I gave him my son. I am not fit to be a lone father.

    This gave me the opportunity to do the job I had desired since I was three. A spy of the KGB.

NOVEMBER 18th, 1941

Training time

“Get to work, lazy slugs! Train, get stronger, or die!” Peter Houtana, a Norway Former Officer was teaching us to endure pain, and ignore blood. I was in the blues, or the group of Newbies. After a month of training, I was so strong that I thought I could defeat the bodyguard of our mayor (that was so, until I advanced in the harder groups. The people there were real giants)!

I was in the training room, discussing with my friend Fedor Ivanov, when the first whistles came. The first cries. The first bombs.

Bombs exploded everywhere around us. We ran through  a corridor, where 20 armed men prepared for battle. We went up the emergency exit, leading to outside, in the courtyard. The passage was blocked!

With only one way to go, we sprinted across the hall, leading to the vehicle base, where thousands of missiles, planes, helicopters, and so on were stationed.  Luckily, it hadn’t been hit yet, otherwise the whole building would explode to pieces because of the stocks of gunpowder!

I climbed in the FIELDSLAYER, an easy to control war plane, as Fedor climbed in a helicopter with missile launchers on each  side. I didn’t even think about the fact that I had never flew in a plain, as I departed out of the base at 30 km per hour.    

I do not recall what happened next, therefore Fedor told me: “You started flying straight to the ground, after blacking out. A bomb saved your life. The whole base exploded, projecting you on the branches of a pine tree. I was more luckier. I flew straight in combat, except the Nazis were already gone.”

      DECEMBER 8th, 1941

    Tears of terror

        I had just escaped from a cruel death, I thought quietly in my uncomfortable bed in the Livinich hospital, in the north-eastern part of Vologda. Suddenly I heard a sad music outside. I limped to the shattered window, and indeed, a funeral was being held in the Shadowaskyi graveyard for the 300 innocent people and men under training killed because of the Nazis. “Curse them! Curse them to Hades!” I muttered. They were supposed to be our allies, but perhaps Stalin was feeling that the Nazis would lose the war, and launched an attack on Germany. I felt like going out and killing every single one of the Nazis, which was totally impossible.

    Then, I saw, hanging on the wall, a journal dating of yesterday: “Japanese make a striking attack on Pearl Harbor.” and  “Is it another world war?”  I couldn’t believe it! The Americans, who had been doing a good job in the war stopping fuel and gas from being imported from different places. They wouldn’t attack, because, of course, that would mean they would be in war with the Axis, which they weren’t. “They were too damn scared to come in and fight!” boasted Hitler every day on the radio.

                     DECEMBER 15th, 1941

                        A proud Russian soldier

    I am fine now. The reason I haven’t written in this journal for 2 days, is because of the cold. Two days ago, Mr. and Mrs. Perkins died of cold. They were both Americans, and had a son, who luckily survived. But he was almost dead when they found him. We men have been fixing every wall and glass of the Town, so the freeze wouldn’t penetrate in the houses and kill the people inside.

    Now that the job is done, all men are heading towards the recruitment desk. You can join the army, have 9 ruble a week, (which wasn’t that bad), and have 50 rubles at the end of the war (if you’re still alive)!

    And that is exactly where I’m heading to.

                    DECEMBER 24th, 1941

                        A very big fail

        I am part of the 13th regiment, containing 800 brave Russians, 40 T-34s (tanks), and 25  A-19s (war planes). Lately, I have encountered a well educated Menshevik, Rurik Suzdal, who came in the army 12 years ago. He was a Veteran!

    We are planning to ambush a group of Nazis, heading towards the East for Moscow. It is going to be my first full-scale battle!

        LATER- It was horrible. A massacre. I am crawling over to a tree, unable to walk. The pain is untamable. To whoever finds this journal, I shall write the exact events that happened. I feel that my moment has come, so I shall write quickly. “We ran in battle, surprising the Nazis, and killing them easily. Then, after a short time, we saw hundreds of machine guns posted on the sides of the road, keeping us under constant fire. Finally they charged. The shock was terrible. Many men fell, followed by a wave of German cavalry men with swords, killing anybody alive. One of them trampled my left leg, but I barely managed to crawl over to a tree, and I watched the rest of the soldiers getting crushed to death by the infamous Nazis.” I was the only survivor.

    I will close this journal and try to stand up. Perhaps I could walk to Vologda like that?

       I did it! I managed to stand up, even with a broken leg! I am now limping to Vologda, away from this landscape of bloody snow, which in my perspective, seems impossible. I am approximately, lets say, 500 miles from Vologda, and because of the wolves at night, I might die. But by may still be able to find a farm, or even better, a city.

    But then I heard them. The Wolves. Their howling, very near, clearly stated they thought I was their dinner. But before catching me, they were going to have to catch up.  I started running like a madman, tripping over roots and fallen branches, or getting scrapes by occasional thorns. Soon, I heard their paws scratching the snow, and their mouths watering, in sight of me.

    I was too tired to run any more. I toppled to the ground, breathing and releasing air  fast. I limped behind a tree, hoping that they wouldn’t see me, but knowing they would. I gasped when the first one leaped in front of me, then, howling, called for his comrades. I had been discovered.

                    DECEMBER 24th, 1941

                        midnight horror

    I grabbed my pistol, and started shooting insanely. But what came out of it was dust, and ice. My gun was frozen with the cold. They slowly approached, but suspiciously, knowing I had a pistol, but ignoring the fact that it didn’t work, Then my face brightened. Rurik appeared behind the wolves, without making a sound. He positioned his gun, shouted ¨Nikakoi Poschady!¨ (no pity in Russian), and three seconds later, the wolves were half-running half-limping away.

                    DECEMBER 25th, 1941

                        transfer

    We reached Vologda the next day, because of a nice Menshevik who was driving to his son, in Vologda, right near my house. His son was mr. Perkins, who had died few days earlier because of the freeze. Sadly, I explained him what had happened. Then, when he was about to turn back and go back to his house, I continued: ¨Their son is still alive¨. His face brightened a little, and he continued driving, his hopes up.

    Arrived at the army station in Vologda, the generals calmly listened to what had happened at the battle, and finally, after a little discussion, they announced proudly that, for the first time, two regular soldiers of the Soviet Union were being transferred to a Siberian shock division. We were going in the Molotov division! They were extremely strong soldiers, capable of living in extremely hard conditions. I was very proud, but nervous. How was a little drop of water like me get treated by strong waves of veteran soldiers from the occasional revolutions, protests, riots, or even wars?

DECEMBER 28th, 1941

                        counter offensive

    Then one day, I overheard a conversation between 5 strong northern Siberian soldiers who were all brothers. They were born, raised and lived (used to) in Anadir, the closest city to North America. They were the toughest of all!

¨Ye guys know why we here, right? We part of big counter offensive against tho’ jerky Nazis!¨ ¨Us attacking Kholm at sundown! They say S.S. soldiers all over place. Finally good match!” They threw their heads back and laughed. This raised some confidence inside me.

    ¨Yeah, we’re gonna’ kick the Nazis out of Russia so hard Hitlers gonna’ be crying for his mommy!” Another round of laughter. This time I was part of them. This attack on Kholm would be successful, I thought.

                    SUNDOWN

    20 elite soldiers quietly crawled over to the remparts of Kholm, killing the guards with silenced shotguns. I am watching them break through the gate with dynamite, killing more guards, then shouting the signal: a hooting signal. It was all in such a perfect coordination, I almost cried.

    The other soldiers faces around me were tense, ready for battle. A sudden whistle shrieked in the air, piercing my ears like 100 knives. The 40 T-34s , fast and solid, raced out of the woods, firing their cannons at anybody in sight. They crashed in the walls like bulldozers, and rampaged the inside of the city. The startled soldiers were too late. They were either killed by the canons, or crushed to death by the falling blocks of stone. Suddenly, hundreds of machine guns were posted on the walls, firing at the tanks like crazy.

    Another whistle sounded, ordering the tanks to retreat. The german soldiers shouted with delightment, cursing us and taunting us to attack. The men around me were angry. Too angry. As thousands of the men rushed in the battlefield, nothing could stop them. The germans fired few desperate shots, but after that, fled of. The men crashed like bombs in the running germans, firing at them and jamming the tip of their guns in the dying Nazis. They roared as they took pieces of wood, fired them by the explosions caused by the tanks, and burned the whole city down. Luckily, there was not too many civils in the city.

We counted approximately 19 deaths, 115 wounded, and only one tank lost. I am still shocked by the look on the faces of the soldiers who ran and destroyed Kholm to blood and fire. It was a melee of pure hateness and anger towards the Nazis.

    We are now moving to protect Moscow, where approximately 20 German and Soviet divisions are battling towards each other. In the north, all is well, because the “Leningrad” division is pushing the Nazis out to Finland, and bombarding their battleships and cargo ships. In the south, the rest of the divisions are pushing them towards Ukraine and Roumania.

    We are approaching Moscow! The city of my dreams! I am hearing men boasting about who killed more men in the “Kholm massacre”. Then suddenly on the radio, a voice boomed. “Attack on Kharkov fails. 15 Siberian shock divisions destroyed by 300 machine guns posted on the walls!” All noise quieted down to low whispers, as everybody’s shocked faces explained their feelings. Then the signal was released. Hundreds of Germans rushed into the camp, killing everybody on the passage, occasionally taking prisoners. No one was even able to fire a shot. It was complete defeat.

                         DECEMBER 29th, 1941

                    Rebellion

    I was part of the prisoners. We were 300, all confused as we were dragged by the Nazis laughing, and cursing and shoving us to the ground. A man behind me was pushed. Everybody stopped talking, except the Germans. He was one of the five brothers. He slowly walked towards the man, followed by his brothers, shoving away anybody in their path. The man grabbed out his pistol, and said in an accented Russian: “If you approach me one more step, down you go!” You could see he was terrified. The five brothers slowly retrieved to their usual places, and they shot fast glances at the German. “I’ll kill you whenever I get the chance, you bastard!”

We kept on walking until sunset, where arrived at a well-protected camp; Archangelsk. Thousands had died there!

I am writing as the strongest of the five brothers calls everybody for an announcement. “Everybody!”  he             whispered. No sound except a little fly escaped fro the starving audience. “Everyday, we get weaker, and have less hope of rebellion. Our men have grown weak, young and old soldiers die everyday. It is time to fight!” A cheer rose from the crowd, lately followed by hushes. “I say we kill the guards outside, head straight for the exit, and kill the soldiers there with our weapons collected. I know it is not that much of a plan, but in these situations, it is better to go simple. I do not force anybody to come, as you may stay if you wish, and die slowly, like rotten rats squeaking for mercy. The rest of you, be brave, and crush and kill those bastards! Leave me the soldier that shoved me earlier. I’ll murder him and he’ll not even know what hit him! We will attack at sunset. Dismissed!”

    I walked away, confident, as everybody else. This was a position of liberty or death.

                           SUNSET

    We charged out of the buildings as the sun started to set. What we found was horrible. A weak russian was standing near the Germans, who had their weapons raised at us. He had obviously told the Germans our plan.

    This raised a wave of gasps from the crowd. Then I had an idea. I made an eye contact with Rurik who, luckily, was still alive. And we charged. I shouted “Liberty or death!” As bullets whizzed past me, I ran with him towards the ranks of soldiers. One struck me in the leg, making me stumble a little. I had just time to arrive the front ranks, as waves of the other captives emerged from the crowd, shouting their own war cries. Most of them went down. I grabbed a gun from a man, but in return, he punched me hard with his hand on the skull. I blacked out.

    I am sitting there, on a bench in the army camp. I have been promoted to lieutenant of a small group of 150 soldiers in the Molotov division, who has been mixed with the 112th armored division, coming from the top of the siberian arctic.  It was incredible what had happened. As the men were about to exterminate us, the 112th had attacked with tanks and war planes. Arkhangelsk  had fallen!

                JANUARY 6th, 1942

                    My son!

    I woke up early that day. A woman had come in the room, explaining that my son was here. “What son?” Then I remembered. “Let him  in”, I responded. Vladimir came in. He was only two years old, but so cute! Victor followed him in. “Vladimir!Victor! What are you doing here?” I had exclaimed. “We came in to visit you”, Victor answered quietly. “We heard you were alive, and you became a hero!” It was one of the best days of my life. And it always will be, even now, in… no, wait. I shall explain it later.

FEBRUARY 3rd, 1943

We win!

Hitler failed his bloody attack on Russia. He has been pushed back into his cursed land in Europe. The war is won! People are celebrating everywhere on the streets. The last few days have been incredible, us winning every battle. It was a dream. I have been promoted twice, from commander to general. My division, the Molotov, has became the second best, after the Leningrad. We are hoping the Japanese won’t attack us. I will have to start stopping to write  in this journal, because of time. I have no time! So I shall try writing whenever I can.

            FEBRUARY 2nd, 1946

                The real end

Hitler  has suicided! In Europe, the Normandy landing has crushed all Germans in France, and many other places! Now, I have finally time to write. But first, I must go on a mission to Japan, commanding 500 men, including English, French, Russians, and Americans, and defeat the rebels of Jian-Su. Wish me good luck, Journal.

  `                6 Hours later…

    We are approaching their camp. They are approximately 2,000, but with few ammunition. Our plan is for Rurik and 250 men to attack south, after 25 groups of 10, including me, burn down their resources and do few little raids to demoralize them.         

The first groups of 10 to attack are my group, and the Americans. They have experience in surprise attacks.   

Goodbye, jo   

    Sorry, journal. It was time to attack, so I stopped writing. I will describe in my best word what cruelties and atrocities happened. We ran in their camp, and fired at them, without order. What we saw was instead of soldiers, were women, children, old people, and barely any men armed. They raised their hands in defense, and we saw they weren't the rebels. They were the captives they had took during the attack  on Cuba last month.! The people were starving, many of them dead, with people eating their leftovers of body parts, and… no, it is too horrible to explain. And that was i-    yes, I know. I am writing with my blood. No more ink. They broke it anyways. We won, but still. 15 survivors. We found out it was a trap, but it was too late. The rebels ran at us, shooting us. We manage to get in order just in time, and we broke their ranks, sending them running. They counter-attacked 2 minutes later, and we killed them all. But I am not sure they are all dead. We are starving, and… whatever. I will go and die. There is no escape.

                                Nicol         Bransburg