Summertime

patriotism? can't relate

Joining the army is possibly one of the worst decisions that I have ever made in my life. I cannot believe I allowed Anatole to drag me into this giant mess. It's not just about Olivier anymore. Yeah, I miss him like hell, but that would still be the outcome whether or not I were in the army. He would be gone for a long time, and I would return to my boring life of starvation and monotony, but he would be gone for the same amount of time if I joined the army, too. That's not the problem. The problem is that now I have to listen to disgusting amounts of patriotism swarming around my head, as well as taunts against the French, and I am forced to remain silent, because loving a Frenchman in the army that has marched illegally on my country's soil is a crime in the eyes of these men who sit around me at camp.

It is my belief that the fact that Russia has been invaded makes the Russian soldiers and the Russian citizens even more loving of their country. They have to be seen as strongly loyal to their country so that it will be more difficult to take down because of how much support it has from the people living there and the people defending it in the fields. Sure, it might work, but it does nothing to lessen the frequent talk of how powerful the motherland is. They have too much faith in Russia. While I love my country, too, I don't overestimate its abilities because of how blinded by patriotism I am. I love in moderation when it comes to my country but love in excess when it comes to what I can without any consequences to come from it.

Naturally the Russian soldiers throw insults at the French as well, because the French invaded our country, but these insults are so abundant and so harsh that I start to wonder if there wasn't pre-existing hatred for the French even before they provoked us. It sickens me each time they carelessly throw out an overgeneralization about a group of people as diverse as our own, but I have to hear each and every word, because the times when we're stationed at camp sitting on logs and such -- those are the times when I eat whatever food I can call breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and those are the times when the other soldiers are also free from activities and feel the need to pump out more of their repulsive nationalism.

I have no clue how they find new things to say about Russia or the French, but they generate them somehow, as there is never a lull in their conversations. Maybe they spend their time thinking of things to share with the rest of the group when they're supposed to be actively engaged in the activities. Whatever the reason is, it works well in their favor and not so much in mine.

We sit around our little camp on some logs that we pulled out of the woods somewhere, and another day brings another one of their discussions that I am obligated to listen to. It's not like I'm not upset that the French have invaded my country -- the only one that I've ever lived in and have learned to love. In fact, I am very emotionally distressed about the thought of having my home snatched away from me by an arrogant leader who knows nothing of Russia, but I don't take the time to slander the other side like the guys around me to do make themselves feel better about their situation. Of course I wouldn't invite a bunch of French soldiers over for a cheerful dinner party to celebrate their passage into my country, but growing animosity between two sides doesn't make it any less difficult to mend relations after the war is done. And some of these French soldiers -- like Olivier -- didn't sign up for the army with the intention of going to war. A tiny bit of sympathy for your enemy goes a long way for not destroying everything in sight.

Anatole has thoroughly disappointed me with how he's been acting since he joined the army. Now he has decided that he doesn't care about Olivier's French identity and how much he means to me, because instead he really enjoys insulting the French almost as much as the other guys. He takes part in the jeering games that only serve to make me cringe to my core, shouting and cheering for whatever the other guys shout and cheer for. I think that Anatole has become a completely different person, actually. Maybe I switched him up with another Anatole, and the real Anatole from the streets of Saint Petersburg is in a different division, because I do not recognize this person in front of me. He has grown away from me and closer towards these other men who will only support him for as long as the war will last, while I have supported him for as long as we have been friends. The military changes people, perhaps, but not in a beneficial way for Anatole. With increased strength in his body comes increased strength in his opinions, it seems.

"All this time in the military, and we have not yet encountered one of those manifestations of French scum," says the man seated across from me. "I told my father I would bring back a celebratory scalp to show him, but so far I have none."

I have been describing their words as disgusting for their blatant nationalism, but that image that has just been presented in my mind is veritably disgusting. I look over at Anatole to see if he is equally as repulsed, but all I see is a wide sneer, which only increases how repulsed I am.

"Why bring back just one when we can have the entire army when we're through with them?" Anatole suggests, matching the pugnacious expression of the other guy.

The first man laughs and leans over to the soldier sitting beside him while pointing back at Anatole. "I like this one."

"And believe me," Anatole continues, dreams of glory sliding across his lips, "we will have the entire army."

The spirits of those in the camp surrounding me lift higher and higher until they reach the plain of egotism. They rejoice.

For me, the sticky situation places a gag over my mouth, and I say nothing.

~~~~~

A/N: so now we've checked in with both olivier and alexei in the army ;)))

thanks if u made it this far

~Dakootie