Dirty reality made by gloved hands

XIX (part 2)

After the operation Barbarossa almost all the western countries had thought that it was over for the USSR.

To just think that how much people disregard the absolute power of the German army is disappointing. Within two months the germans pushed the front line so far into the USSR's territory it almost reached Moscow. By 1941 October/November legends say that the distance to a German victory was only about 14 Kilometres.

They were able to do that because the administration of the Soviets did not expect an attack thus there wasn't any military divisions ready to defend. However, once the crisis has settled in the minds of the leaders, they immediately settled the economic production into military management. Almost all of the factories in the hinterland began to heavily produce tanks, infantry equipment, aeroplanes, artilleries, etc.

Due to huge amount of production the quality of these weapons fell under the quantity. But who would have thought that this would be one of the reasons why the Soviets managed to stop the germans. The Soviet weapons were far as perfect and refined as the German ones. They were rickety and would verbatim fell apart in one's hands, but since they were so loose, the metal compartments could bear extreme cold and heat as well, unlike the German ones that would get stuck.

So during the winter of 1941 the Soviets managed to push the enemy out of the vicinity of Moscow. Then in 1942 a standing war began. No side could overcome the other for a good while. The Soviets slowly crawled forward even though they had more than twice as much manpower and the Germans.

Desperate because of the heavy loses and itching defeat, during the spring of 1943 the germans came up with the idea of Operation Citadel which later over gown itself as the famous battle of Kursk. Operation Citadel was planned to be a counter attack on the Soviets by surrounding Kursk and encircling Russian armed forces.

***

Intel made its way to the Soviet headquarters.

The union decided to travel down to one of the smaller villages surrounding Kursk to find out more about the situation himself.

Most of the houses were already abandoned, destroyed or were close to fully collapse. Nevertheless he still choose one to operate as his temporary "field office".

"Father," Russia came inside poorly lit the room. Soviet was sitting beside a rickety wooden table, which he made himself out of left-over boards. It was no time to be picky, they had to work with what they could find. The union stirred and looked up from his work to meet his son's gaze.

"Sorry for disturbing."

"It's alright, come in." He said monotonously. Russia entered the room further and stood right in from of the table. He seemed to be in a hurry. He wore an aviation uniform and the goggles were still on top of his head.

"Father," he began "I just landed from air reconnaissance, It seems that the germans have gained a huge momentum and started rapidly pushing form both north and south. I inspected both areas. Our counter attack on the north seems successful, we slowed them down, however the south is desperate for reinforcement." He reported speaking quickly, only stopping to breathe.

"Very well." He answered calmly.

"What will you do father?" The union hummed quietly as he thought of a solution.

"I allow you to send reinforcement, BUT, I prohibit you to take part in the attack."

"W-What?!" Cried out Russia in bewilderment. "You can't do that to me! How am I supposed to lead a counter attack when I am not physically present?" He protested immediately.

"You won't be leading the attack, because I will."

"That's even worse! Father, without you hell will brake loose! And what if - god forbid - you get injured? Or worse captured? There are rumours among soldiers that the Third Reich is looming in the area!"

"Son, I appreciate your concern, but you are my heir and these possibilities occur to you too. It's better for me to get captured than you. It may not seem like it, but if the Reich is indeed here it would be more dangerous for me to let you out there than myself." Russia sighed and silently scratched the back of his head.

"Still, I think it's a bad idea. There are too many things that could go wrong. But fine. Even though common sense says that it's stupid, in my guts I feel that you're right." Soviet nodded and without more words exchanged Russia left the room.

Soon night befell on the little village. By that time Russia has already gave out the orders to get ready and moving by the morning before sending everyone to sleep. But as god would have it sleep did not come to his eyes.

He tossed and turned on the thing that could be barely called a bed. His mind kept on annoying him with the pictures of the Reich and his father. He remembered the times when the German would come to the frequently, and even more the times when he would disappear in thin air, leaving the union in great worry and self-deception. He always struck a weir feeling in him - the Reich. One moment he was content and smiled warmly, he made light hearted conversations with Russia sometimes, praised him, gave him advices, treated him like he was his son. Then a minute later he became cold and detached, made dissatisfied comments, grumbled and snorted maliciously as if everyone around him was a complete idiot. At those times, Russia just couldn't place him. He could cope with the mean comments he said about him, but it absolutely made his teeth grit when this type of malevolence was allowed to the Reich towards his father or his siblings. He also remembered that ill fated day, when NKVD soldiers reported that his father was found in his office paralysed and one of his eyes burnt out. It had made his heart ache when he learnt how that happened.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly he got up and went outside.

The house that Soviet shared with Russia had a little porch in front of it with a roof which kept a shadow of the moonlight that befell on this wrecked little village.

He dug around his pockets when he found his hidden box of cigarettes. He could only allow himself to smoke in secret. He doesn't even know what would the union do if he would find out that he smokes. True, Soviet is like a locomotive engine, nine times out of ten he has a cigarette between his fingers, especially since the war began, but he still cares about his children and does not want them to get addicted to this poison. However, when hard times come, sometimes you just want to turn everything off, take a break, or at least shove them aside a little.

Russia opened the box and grimaced as he saw that there is only three left. Damn it, it's not that easy to get your hands on tobacco. Shaking his head disappointedly he nevertheless took one out and put it between his lips. He took out the lighter he was given by a soldier who since then passed away and tried to lit it.

One click,

two click,

three click,

nothing.

The damn thing barely even sparkled.

Son of a bitch!

Russia furiously shook it, and hit it against the railing, maybe something got stuck in the mechanism, but still nothing.

"Here, try mine." A quiet voice came from behind him. Russia almost jumped out his skin. He turned his head and saw Soviet standing behind him holding out his lighter. He opened his mouth to somehow excuse himself but couldn't find any.

"What? You were going to smoke weren't you?" Said the union calmly while taking out cigarettes for himself.

Russia stood stunned, but nevertheless, embarrassed, took the lighter and lit his cigarette then held out the fire for Soviet.

They smoked in silence. The moon casted light on the bypassing clouds, shining the edged with silver lining. The night was quieter than usual. If not for the occasional sound of distant artillery, one might not even realise that they are in a middle of a war.

"Are you angry?" Russia broke the peaceful silence.

"...No, not this time."