The Red Menace

Dashed Hopes

Artyom Gregoria was PISSED. Hell even pissed wasn't descriptive enough for the absolute inferno of absolute hatred and rage he felt within himself. This hell on earth that people liked to called "World War Two" in Stalingrad it had stolen his family, in the march to Berlin it had killed his friends and now it had taken his only way to distract himself from the war. His vivid and detailed sight. His detailed sight used to be both a curse and blessing for him but now, it was only a curse and a burden. He couldn't distract himself from a upcoming battle by looking at something minuscule and making it larger than life. No longer would he be able to notice every conture or every little movement and reaction of a lover.

  Now all he could do was stare frustratingly hard to find as many details he could but find almost none. His one eye staring lonely into the empty deep, dark abyss of reality without its lifetime partner, without its  original partner and now in its partners place was a large black and leather eye patch covering its partner's long abandoned lair. As he laid there in the field hospital that was set up in a abandoned hotel, and noticed just how lonely the darkness was. With only the groans of pain and the screaming of the wounded that were being worked on in the hotel rooms to accompany him. The wounded that had already been worked on or the less severely wounded had all been put in the large lobby on beds or cots. The sounds and flashes of gunfire, the sound of artillery or katushas blasting the enemy, and the rumbling when rockets or shells hit their targets breaking the darkness.

He couldn't and he wouldn't go to sleep. To afraid to get flashbacks of battles , or nightmares and even , the worst thing of all, memories of him and his friends celebrating or having fun. He knew that when he woke up he would look around for his friends with a smile on his face only to remember the images of them ripped and blown apart or their cold steely eyes glaring accusingly at him. He could cry in despair or scream in rage but he found himself not being able to do either, knowing that screaming in the abyss was pointless and would only waste his breath. So he sat and waited for the night to end.

April 26,1945
  The night was finally over, although the shooting had not stopped and the wave of wounded bodies rushing in hadn't either. The roar of planes and screaming of men could be heard across the hotel as well. He so very wished that he could be out there fighting with his comrades on the battlefield shooting and fighting beside them but no, alas this wish was not granted, instead he was stuck in the cot with a eyepatch staring blankly at a wall doing absolutely nothing. And it angered him! He had spent enough of the war doing nothing! He had watched his friends and soldiers in HIS squad under HIS command die as he watched. He remembered many times where he watched his friends die, when he watched it time slowed down as his comrades doom approached, he couldn't open his mouth to speak or move his arms to shoot or his legs to run towards him comrade. He would watch his comrades die and what did he do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing except watch in fear and grim acceptance. And he hated himself for it, his weakness caused HIS men to die, caused families to lose sons, brothers, fathers, and mothers, sisters, or daughters. He would always remember their deaths in vivid details as well. Remembering as small bloody chunks of brain and skull would shower him and watched as the man's eyeballs flew out in different directions, killed by a sniper. And then the man slumped down and landed with a thump on the ground. But the scary part to him was how fast the body fell, like a the man who just died suddenly gave up against some evil and unknown and that the unknown force grasped the body and pulled it down as fast as it could. Like a greedy man swiping a coin that fallen on the floor.

He remembered all their deaths, all their poses as they died, their screams as they died or in some other cases their absolute silence as death overcame their will power. And it was all his fault and as he thought this a tear came down his cheek from his lone left eye, to him, a sign solidifying his weakness. He wiped the tear away as quick as he could hoping no one saw it. Suddenly the door to the makeshift hotel opened showing a somewhat young man, if he had to guess the man was somewhere in his thirties, he looked clean no dust or really anything on his crisp bright green and red officers uniform, he had no medals and he looked as if he hadn't seen any action, if Artyom had to guess it was a logistic officer straight from Moscow, the mu'dak probably thought he was "inspiring" the troops by coming to visit them when he didn't need to. And even though he was Artyom's senior by ten years or so, Artyom still considered the man a inexperienced boy. And sadly even though Artyom had more experience he could see the man was a praporshchik who was higher in rank than him.

A nurse came running up to the officer asking him what he needed after he showed her some kind of picture she pointed towards Artyom, oh no please this piz'da couldn't be bringing him his discharge papers already, could he? After the officer tipped his officer's cap in thank you he walked over to Artyom the mans black leather boots clicking against the floor of the lobby. When he walked over to him Artyom immediately sat up in his bed and gave a salute, which the officer returned in kind, "At ease comrade,"  the officer said. "Permission to speak sir?" Artyom asked quietly not wanting to wake up any wounded, "Permission granted starshina," "Sir I don't want to go back to go back home I want to continue the fight here sir for the motherland!" Yelled Artyom filled with patriotic fervor forgetting all notions of being quiet. When Artyom said that the officer looked very surprise he couldn't understand why anyone would even want to stay in this der' mo otverstiye " I am sorry comrade but orders are orders you have to go," the officer told him. "Please sir look at me, anywhere I go I'll be of no use an any job in the motherland I can barely see, so there must be some other way for me to serve the party and the motherland better sir!" Artyom needed this, he needed to do something to be worthy of living in such a workers paradise as the Motherland, he needed to prove to himself that he wasn't worthless, he needed redemption for all the friends the he let die and if he died while trying then so be it. The officer saw the fire in his comrade's lone eye, he knew instantly that Artyom wanted this very badly, in Moscow his father that worked as a wealthy politician, told him of a scientist that needed volunteers his father told him that the scientist work would ensure the survival of the Soviet Union. "Soldier, I have heard of a science experiment that is looking for volunteers, it has been said that it will ensure the survival of the motherland, but I must know if you are sure that you want this," the officer stated. Artyom face burst into one of pure pride that he would still be useful to the motherland, he saluted crisply and said " Yes sir, I most definitely  want this sir! Thank you sir!" The officer nodded on acceptance and said " Very well I will make the call," after they both saluted the officer walked off. Artyom sat in his bed excitement and happiness running through his very bones. One thing he did not know was how much this experiment would change his life.