Collaboration with @silmarilz1701
Svetlana knew how to play the game. She'd been caught in the political drama of Stalin's inner circle since birth. The only child of one of Stalin's closest friends, she grew up in the limelight, scrutinized by frie...
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The charged air made Sveta's hair stand on end. As she stood by the trees between Dick, Nixon, and Sink, and the beginning of Dog Company where Ron stared out across the field, Sveta forced deep breaths. She tried to focus on the world around her. Anything to keep her fear in check.
In her mind, Sveta tried to count the number of pins in her hair. She imagined the feel of the crown braid beneath her fingers, the smooth bump of the crossed locks. It had taken fifteen minutes to do that morning. Her frozen fingers had burned with the movement.
She listened to the hushed voices around her. She couldn't make them out, but she could hear them prepping equipment. Zhanna stood with Dick and Nixon, her face blank as she took in the gap between the trees and town. If they had higher ground, she and Zhanna may have been able to help. But they didn't have higher ground.
The waiting infuriated her. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her fingers trailed up and down the barrel of her Mosin-Nagant, feeling the metal finishes and remembering how many times she'd fired bullets in between Kraut eyes. The first time she'd fired a gun and taken a life, Sveta hadn't been able to hold her lunch down. Zhanna had covered for her.
But that weakness had faded years ago. Sveta found it more excruciating to watch the battle from the trees than to stare down the sights of her rifle. She had no intention of doing it this time.
Sveta remembered the argument from that morning. She'd demanded Dick let her go with Easy into the town. He'd not been happy about it, but he and Nixon had both agreed to help her lobby Sink. Sink hadn't even listened. He said that Dike would be in charge, and having an officer who outranked him on the battlefield would only cause confusion.
Her fists clenched. It would only cause confusion because after the patrol, the men knew she could be trusted, and they already knew Dike couldn't. They should've put her in charge instead of that idiot. But she was a woman, and she was a Soviet, and on paper her kill count didn't flash as much as Zhanna's. But Sveta had proved time and again that her skills came more in handy in a battle than from a distance.
She had the accuracy for shooting, but more importantly, Sveta had the calm and disregard for fear in battle to lead. Dick knew it. The NCOs knew it. Even Nixon knew it. He'd made a joke about her replacing Dike, but Sveta figured it was only a joke because they knew no one would, or could, make it happen.
With Guarnere and Toye and Compton gone, Easy was running out of leaders. Shames they could rely on. Peacock had left, thank god. Foley had stepped up. At least they had First Sergeant Lipton.
Sveta looked down to see her knuckles white from her grip on her rifle. She let go, trying to relax. But the buzz of anxious preparation around her made it impossible. She looked right. Dick, Nixon, Sink still stood talking, Zhanna at their side. No smiles, no masks. Just still seriousness.
Sveta didn't know how to stay still. Not when she knew she could make a difference here. For the past month, Sveta had made a difference. She didn't want to let that go. If she let that go, the men would be without a leader. If she let that go, Sveta would let go her only pleasant memories of home.
