From Russia to Family

Prologue

Dunkirk

1940, May

To his left, comrade and friend Emil held the ammo belt in his hands. His own hands...the right was wrapped around the grip and trigger of the machine gun, the left sat atop the stock of the gun, in a feeble attempt at stabilising it. The two stood silently. Below them on the street the rest of their battalion was still setting up camp. Footsteps came from behind them, they stopped. A voice came from the stair well.

"You do know we hold this sector, you needn't keep that gun pointed at, well anything."

He lowered the gun on its bipod that sat perched on the window sill, the glass panes lay shattered on the floor beneath their leather boots. He turned to face the commander.

"Sorry sir, it's just all very nerve racking."

The man smiled and walked up to the two.

"What are your names?"

"Leon sir."

"And you?"

"Emil."

"Right well, look out there."

The three now looked out at the harbour, or what they could see of it through roofs, houses and the thick cloud of smoke that hung in the air.

"The entire British army, as well as the best the French have to offer, are all cooped up in front of you. We have encircled them. They have nowhere to go."

"I thought they were evacuating to England."

"Yes, Leon, they are. But then what hm? We'll simply invade."

"Surely that would be too difficult."

"Not for us, we can achieve anything."

With that, the man spun on his heel and left. In the distance the siren of a stuka bomber could be heard as the plane fell towards the fleeing soldiers. Without taking his eyes from the view out of the broken window he began talking again.

"Do you really think we have it?"

"Have what?"

"The war, Emil, can we win?"

"It's too early to decide that...but it looks like we already have an idea of the outcome if we've achieved this."

"......"

Emil placed a hand on his shoulder as he too went to leave the building.

"C'mon, we can rest now."

"We still have to keep pushing the defences closer to the beach."

"Not us exactly."

His friend made his way down the stairwell. He kept his eyes on the smoke, the occasional stuka, the town he'd visited just a few years earlier. His ears pricked with every gun shot, yell, scream and siren.

"Let's see what happens."