...the gun against my head...

464 30 22
                                    


Chaos always bred danger

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Chaos always bred danger. Sveta had learned that early in her military career. Chaos was not inherently bad. Chaos was just an opportunity. Depending on who could pull the strings behind the chaos, it meant a strength or a weakness for her. And unfortunately in Eindhoven, the chaos did not belong to the Allies.

A terrible cacophony of disjointed voices filled the town. Men and women who had lived under Nazi occupation for almost half a decade took to the streets with drink and flags as the Americans moved through the town that had become theirs with suspiciously minimal effort. Hot breath filled every inch of space as she tried to work her way towards any sort of island in the chaos. The jump had felt like freedom again. But this, this chaos felt like drowning.

Her heart pounded. Sveta could feel the fear in her own body causing the sweat to pool under the heavy clothes and near her hair. Each breath became harder to take as the swarms of men and women descended on her. In the center of the raging crowd, she felt like little more than a small doll that could get stuffed into a dark chest, locked away, and never pulled into the sun again.

She couldn't understand them. She'd never learned Dutch, and her knowledge of French did nothing to help. Tears sprung to her eyes as they jostled her again and she felt a hand brush against her chest. She had to get out.

Sveta shoved with all her strength. The crowd gave way, parting so she could leave. Sveta raised her arms to shield her face as she drove a wedge between soldier and civilian, man and woman. As she reached a wall, she rubbed her palms on her waist. The solid mass behind her soothed her nerves.

It worked until she saw the dark, partially open windows in the upper stories. All of her rifle training kicked in. Those dark windows gave perfect cover. A smart sniper could sit in the shadows, cover his rifle with a dark cloth, and allow for only a muzzle to peep into the sun. He could take out dozens. They wouldn't even know what hit them.

And each window could hold a sniper. Instinct kicked in. Sveta turned her collar up and inward; hide the Captain's bars. A sniper would love to take out an officer. She grimaced as she saw no way to take the massive American flag patch off her uniform. The red, white, and blue would paint a bullseye for any Nazi looking. She could've picked off the Americans one by one from any of those upper windows.

She readjusted her helmet and her grip on the Mosin-Nagant. The crowds, barely accommodating the British tanks rolling through the street, had to be navigated. She took a deep breath. She tried to calm her nerves. Just a crowd.

Sveta made her way towards a chanting group amidst the sea of Dutch. Their words meant nothing, but the anger behind every spoken syllable didn't need a translator. She shoved Alley and Liebgott out of the way. But as she reached the circle, Sveta almost wished she hadn't.

Her breathing stopped. Two men held three women to the ground, pulled up by their hair. Sobs racked their bodies nearly in unison as the crowd screamed and spat at them. Their blood, red against their pale skin and the grey cobbles, trickled in lines from the rough use of scissors against their hair.

Under The Banner ▪ Band Of BrothersWhere stories live. Discover now