The First Soldier

Storms of flesh

By now, the germans had gotten a new radio and reinforced their lines, but so had the russians. A few new boots had joined their company, hoping they could work with the legendary Trench Bleeder. "With you helping us, we'll be back before our mothers notice we left!" Many young men would say to him. But still the war dragged on. Stronvich would make occasional night raids on the german line. But no matter how many he put down, they would always be replaced by another faceless soldier the next time he went over.

The 15th company was back at the break station. It was now a full month between going back and forth. Beans was the main corse with a sweet cut of trench horse for desert if you were a good boy and ate all your beans. Sometimes there was even bread

Trumpets sounded in the distance before a car pulled into the resting area for the soldiers. A figure, dressed almost head to toe in medals that were never earned stepped out of the vehicle. "Men of our glorious empire!" he stated as he straightened his medals, "Today we celebrate news of a new order given by the tsar."

Murmurs started to permeate the soldiers, whenever Alexander gave an order, it ended in something going very wrong. "More men will arrive to reinforce the front. We have been given an expeditionary force by the United States." The crowd breathed a sigh of relief, "And with them, we will begin to push deeper into the heart of the german forces!"

And now the men were groaning, it seems the tsar was still going to do anything to prove himself. Stronvich spoke above the crowd, "How many men will we be given?" less than 5,000 men to supplement the losses on the front across the entire line.

Two days passed, and now Stronvich was joined by Americans as he marched back to his two meter deep hell. The Americans were all new recruits, but they were armed and supplied better than the russian forces. They had sharp-shooters to counter the german snipers, shotguns that proved much more effective at clearing trenches, and machine guns that could be moved much more easily.

With their assistance, the line moved nearly a mile within two months. But now the battles once again stagnated. The closer they got, the more men they faced and the slower troops arrived to assist them.

"Stronvich, we're going on another raid!" Pytor clapped the soldier on the shoulder, startling him out of his daydreaming. "Oh, well I guess we better load up then." Both men had been on various raids over the months, but the lines were bing reinforced. Their stunts had slowed down the germans, but also caused them to be more on guard, making it harder to disrupt the lines. Stronvich loaded his rifle before someone patted him on the back. He turned to see an American, offering him a trench gun and a few slugs, "Give them hell, and us some room to breath."

But before they could leave the trench, a shout would shock them all. "Storm troopers!" Legends of the german elite fighters had been thrown around before. In a single hour, they took over a trench that the german standards could not take for weeks. Even worse, supposedly they had done so with less than 50 men. Machine guns, rifles, and pistols fired into the figures that swept towards them. Stronviched watched in awe at they way they moved. Their coats billowed behind them like demonic wings as they floated over the field. Nothing slowed them down, not mud, not corpses, or even artillery as the force of 20 storm-troopers made it to the trench. Only one went down as a rifle tore through the leather of his gas mask.

Stronvich watched as one set his eyes on him. Another russian tried to gut him with a bayonet, only to fail. Stronvich watched as the storm-trooper batted the rifle aside and cut the russians throat. Without stopping, the german grabbed a shovel and brained another russian. Two men fired their rifles into him, but it was as if the bullets simply bounced off him as he grabbed a bayonet and gutted them both.

"They're wearing armor!" one of the americans screamed before a knife was shoved into his throat. He died choking on his blood. All the russians ran, Stronvich joined them, fleeing from the trench before being tackled. The strom trooper had already tore through another 5 men and taken him down!

Stronvich barely managed to get his hands on the wrist of the demon who stradled him before he brought the knife down.

But the knife slowly descended towards him. With one desperate heave, Stronvich shoved the knife to the side. It left a long gash on his chest, but for now the adrenaline took it off his mind. "Ragh!" he punched the german, knicking him off. Stronvich screamed, it was a gutteral, primal thing. He slammed the shotgun pump back and forth, even when it was empty he kept at it.

Shlick-chick, Boom! Shlick-chick, Boom! Shlick-chick, Boom! Shlick-chick, Boom! Shlick-chick, Boom! Shlick-chick, Boom!

The storm-trooper was on the ground, twitching as Stronvich carefully reloaded his shotgun. He tentatively approached the dying soldier. He grabbed his gas mask and attepted to lift it. But a hand gripped his wrist. The stormtrooper had 4 slugs in him and still managed to fight the russian. "Augh!" Stronvich slammed the butt of the shotgun against the gasmask, the sound of glass breaking as the lenses of the mask shattered. Both soldiers scream as they grapple, rolling around on the ground as they battle for dominance.

Tey rolled through mud, blood, and puddles of water until finally Stronvich slammed a knife into the Storm-troopers neck. Stronvich grabbed him by the mask and slammed his head onto the dirt beneath them. Slap, slap, slap. Crack! The man's skull broke as the fight left him.

Stronvich staggered with labored breaths as he stood above the elite. He had beaten the best the Kaiseriech had to offer, and it felt... good...

Stronvich didn't know what came over him, but he laughed. He rose above the wall of the trench and laughed as he hoisted the body of the stormtrooper over the ridge. "Hah, hah, hah!!" He showed his dominance to the world as he hoisted the trooper as high as he could. Other strom-troopers pointed to him, "Herr komandant!" they shouted as some of the soldiers broke down and started to leave the trench.

The rush of power started to ebb from the russian as he dropped the corpse, falling to his knees. The mud felt so cold on his skin as it seeped through his clothes.

Maybe he could just sleep for a bit. Maybe he could just... take a rest...