East Bound - Russia x Germany

Pobeda

I didn't mind us going to Park Pobeda. I mean, it would be interesting and I could learn something more about the Great Patriotic War, as Russia called it. He weaved masterfully through the partially empty streets, veering so much that I almost knocked over a fruit stand. Park Pobeda was only ten blocks away, but it felt like one hundred after we final got there. Russia wasn't even breathing hard. He took off his ushanka and waved it in the air. At first I thought he did it for no reason, but I had to remind myself that he didn't do anything just for fun. He had a purpose one way or the other. How did I know that? I scratched my head. How did I know? I didn't have time to figure that out when a thin and lanky man came over. He smiled nervously and had little dark circles under his eyes.

"Hey," he greeted us, shaking Russia's hand. "Now this is what I call sweet reunion."

"Uh huh," Russia nodded. "Nice to see you in functioning condition, Poland."

"Right?" The man, Poland, laughed. "I'm not great at functioning under someone's feet."

"You're telling me." The other snickered. Poland was shorter than Russia, but looked much more lithe. His bony frame was clothed in a woven tan wool sweater and black suede shoes. On his wrist was a shiny silver watch with a small crystal face. He only noticed me after five minutes in conversation.

"Russ, tell me who's your friend?" He pointed at me.

"This," Russia pushed me in front, taking my shoulders in his hands. "Is Germany. My compartment mate and a historian."

"Hi," I smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, cool. Historians are...good people." He struggled to find words. "Aaaand...well...you're important people, yeah." Russia looked the other way to keep from laughing. "Anyway!" Poland said loudly to keep from falling into giggles. "Let's go on, shall we?"

"Yes," Russia took me by the hand, and steered me towards the open air museum. The first thing that came into view was a polished old T-34 tank with the Soviet Union's flag rippling in the wind. Other specimens were behind a dark green metal gate, all gleaming in the sunlight. It served as both a barrier and a specimen in itself. "Pretty." Russia commented, though it seemed as if he waited for his friend to respond.

"Functional." Poland added as we came up to a small booth.

"Nice to know," Russia fumbled with his wallet till he brought out two one hundred ruble notes and an identification card of sorts. The person inside slid three tickets out and shut the window.

"Benefits." Poland nodded to his card.

"Too bad I don't go to museums, parks, and restaurants often!" Russia sighed. "This stupid card would be of better service."

"I use mine all the time." The other said. "I mean, they tortured us then, now we have to enjoy our...'special privileges', right?"

"I guess you can put it so." Russia stopped to admire a KV-1 heavy tank. It towered over us, and by estimate was around six metres. Russia came up to it almost one third of its height. "Lovely tank. Named after Klimenti Voroshilov, the defence commissar. The production of this classic ceased in 1943 because of its cumbersome nature."

Poland smiled. "No Russia. Anyone can read off a tableau."

"I was not," Russia blatantly denied. "Want to prove it? Look there," he pointed over to a multi turret tank. It was very long and looked like it could crush a tractor. "That is an SMK Heavy. Entered service in 1939, and named after Sergei Mironovich Kirov. It was abandoned for the KV-1s because of the lack of firepower and protection. How's that?"

"Most impressive." Poland clapped. "Great job. Although, you could have easily seen the next placard."

"Hey!" Russia lightly jabbed him.