Collaboration with @silmarilz1701
Svetlana knew how to play the game. She'd been caught in the political drama of Stalin's inner circle since birth. The only child of one of Stalin's closest friends, she grew up in the limelight, scrutinized by frie...
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Months into their stay in Camp Mackall and the Americans still whined about crawling around on maneuvers. They could go on and on when they wanted to. 'Sobel's a jackass,' 'it's wet,' 'how are we supposed to learn anything following these directions?' Not that she didn't agree with their complaints against Captain Sobel. But ever since those roses...
Sveta readjusted her helmet. They'd done a jump before sunrise into a nearby part of the state. The sun should've risen, but the clouds had opened and rain made the world grey. She yawned. From her position crouched behind a tree, she could see the enlisted setting up foxholes. They had to defend their position until Major Strayer told them otherwise.
About three meters to the right, Luz and Perconte had a foxhole. Beyond them were Sisk and Hoobler. After a moment of peering through the haze, she found Martin with Cobb. That wouldn't end well. Cobb had too much of a mouth on him. He liked to talk about his experiences in Africa, scare as many of the more fragile men as he could. Martin didn't take kindly to that.
Scanning the pine forest, Sveta looked for any sign of enemies. They had to defend against Dog Company, a company she had come across more than once. They mostly ignored her and Zhanna. In the beginning, Zhanna had mentioned their whistles and jeers. But it hadn't taken long for them to lose interest.
A heavy raindrop fell on her face, splashing into her eye. Sveta growled out a Russian curse. To her left, she saw Blithe flinch where he sat with Randleman. She rolled her eyes. They had never quite gotten used to her language.
She could hear a few murmurs below the rain. The squelch of boots on muddy ground filled the air, and she whipped around, standing upright. Welsh came up behind her, water droplets rolling down his metal helmet and dripping from his nose. He grimaced.
"See anything?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No." All she could see were dark trees and huddled men.
"So. What's Russia like?"
Sveta turned. The question caught her off guard. Welsh just observed her, the edges of his mouth creeping up into a small smile. She didn't answer. It confused her. Why was he asking? What did he want to know?
"I've heard it's cold."
"Yes. It can be cold," she agreed. After a moment of watching the forest, she turned back to him. Since he'd arrived a month ago, she'd come to respect Welsh. Not like him, but respect him. Kind of like Martin and Randleman. He did his job well and didn't watch her like Nixon. "Why?"
"Honestly?" He shrugged, chewing on some gum. "When someone gets scared by a bunch of flowers, I get curious. Nixon thinks I'm crazy to ask. I figured it's better to ask than snoop around your files."
She turned back to him. No one had ever said anything like that to her. For a moment, her expression softened. He didn't watch her, just looked past her and the trees into the haze.
