𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ━━ 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

3 The Price of War

RUSSIA, JANUARY 1945

As the chilling winds swept across the desolate, snow-laden Russian plateau, I found myself standing amidst a band of fellow soldiers, each of us fulfilling our roles in this frigid expanse. Morita, hunched over the transceiver, his breath visible in the icy air, was focused on the critical communication equipment. Jones, his eyes fixed on the transmission, interpreted the cryptic messages relayed through the crackling device. Falsworth, with steely determination, scanned the horizon through his binoculars, searching for any signs of movement or threat. Dugan and Dernier, a seasoned duo, worked tirelessly at the cliff's edge, adjusting the winch, a vital component of our impending maneuver. Their synchronized movements in the biting cold spoke volumes about the camaraderie and precision of our unit.

Beside me stood Bucky, a steadfast companion whose loyalty and resilience matched my own. We engaged in a conversation that held the weight of unspoken words, our bond woven tight through shared experiences, battles fought side by side, and the unspoken understanding of each other's thoughts.

The bitter chill of the Russian winter clung to us as we prepared for the daring mission ahead. My breath billowed out in visible puffs of frosty air, mingling with the tension that gripped our small, committed unit. With the weight of leadership resting upon me, I checked my rifle meticulously, the familiar, methodical actions serving as a calming ritual amidst the storm of emotions swirling within.

Bucky stood near the cliff's edge, his gaze fixed on the terrain below. His unyielding determination to execute this high-risk endeavor was palpable, his jaw clenched with an unwavering resolve. "Remember when Zerena helped me convince you to ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?"

"And I threw up?" I glanced at him. 

Bucky looks over the edge again, leery. " This isn't payback, is it?"

The nerves coiled in my stomach, a mix of anxious energy and an unrelenting drive to see this mission through. We were preparing to leap onto a high-speed train, a feat demanding precision, courage, and a controlled surge of adrenaline. The thought of the perilous leap onto the train hurtling through the icy expanse only heightened our collective apprehension.

My lips stretched into a grin, not betraying the turmoil I felt inside. "Now, why would I do a thing like that?"

Our conversation came to an end, and we turned our attention back to the imminent task at hand. Bucky stood next to me and mumbled, "Jerk."

To which I mumbled back, "Punk."

A train whistle shrieks through the pass and Falsworth announces, "All aboard, gentlemen! Mind the gap!"

The rush of emotions — the anxiety, determination, and smoldering anger — pulsed through me, the tempest that fueled my actions and steadied my resolve. I cast a brief glance over the cliff's edge, knowing that the imminent jump onto the speeding train would test every ounce of our training, skill, and bravery.

Bucky, Jones, and I attach T-BARS to the cable before addressing everybody. "Okay, this is a very short, very fast train. We've got a ten-second window, tops. Mistime it, and you're a bug on the windshield."

Dugan checks the speed of the train against his watch. "Better move it, bugs."

Bucky, Jones, and I hook the T-BARS to the cable stretching across the pass. As I locked eyes with Bucky, our unspoken communication conveyed a shared determination and readiness for the imminent leap. The steel in his gaze mirrored the resolve I felt within myself, a silent affirmation of our unbreakable bond and our shared commitment to see this mission through to the end.