Dreadnought
Deity
Eastern Front. A small Ukrainian village, 70 miles from Kiev.
Sergeant Eytinge seed no difference between Satan and a Russian.
Being under his command, as you could probably expect, changes the expectations of fair treatment between the two sides. You are told the Russians will give you no mercy, and thusly you give the Russians no mercy. You are driven nearly mad in combat to escape this prophecy of doom at the hand of the Russians. Its a two sided exchange of fear of capture. I was not prepared for the war, and I was especially ill prepared for the audacity of the brutality of it.
We were outnumbered, so we decided to strike when the enemy was not prepared.
Three of our squads were in a Ukrainian village. It was dilapitated from costant shelling. Russian looters had pillaged the homes, swarming like hungry ants to eat picnic food. Our regiment had won back this ground, but we were spread out. Worse, the Russians were heading for us. We knew this, of course, and were filled with anger for our mortal enemies. We were ready. The Russian Tartars weren't, which was not surprising.
The dead of night brings unreal fears to the human mind. You become more aware of your surroundings. Humans can do this. But the Russians seem to lack this ability, as we would soon find out. More evidance the Russians aren't human.
The sergeant put our squad behind a low wall in front of a narrow street. We knelt and hid with the shadows. We saw the Russians coming miles away; they somehow lacked the mental ability to comprehend military tactics such as stealth.
The sergeant poked his head up above wall and scanned the road. At first he seemed not to notice anything. Then, he turned to us and pointed towards the road and nodded. They were here.
I could here the, shuffling and talking. They were unaware.
The sergeant motioned again. Ready.
They came closer, unaware of their fate. Still chuckling. I will be chuckling after this.
Sergeant again motioned. Set.
Thoughts raced through my mind. Would I be ready for the upcoming fight?
Sergeant didn't give me the chance to think. He motioned again. Follow me lead.
He reached for his belt and unsheathed his knife. He turned, and the rest happened in slow motion. In one motioned he round up and threw the knife. If rotated gracefully in the air, once then again. It finally reached its destination, and imbeded itself in a Russian chest.
To be continued...
Sergeant Eytinge seed no difference between Satan and a Russian.
Being under his command, as you could probably expect, changes the expectations of fair treatment between the two sides. You are told the Russians will give you no mercy, and thusly you give the Russians no mercy. You are driven nearly mad in combat to escape this prophecy of doom at the hand of the Russians. Its a two sided exchange of fear of capture. I was not prepared for the war, and I was especially ill prepared for the audacity of the brutality of it.
We were outnumbered, so we decided to strike when the enemy was not prepared.
Three of our squads were in a Ukrainian village. It was dilapitated from costant shelling. Russian looters had pillaged the homes, swarming like hungry ants to eat picnic food. Our regiment had won back this ground, but we were spread out. Worse, the Russians were heading for us. We knew this, of course, and were filled with anger for our mortal enemies. We were ready. The Russian Tartars weren't, which was not surprising.
The dead of night brings unreal fears to the human mind. You become more aware of your surroundings. Humans can do this. But the Russians seem to lack this ability, as we would soon find out. More evidance the Russians aren't human.
The sergeant put our squad behind a low wall in front of a narrow street. We knelt and hid with the shadows. We saw the Russians coming miles away; they somehow lacked the mental ability to comprehend military tactics such as stealth.
The sergeant poked his head up above wall and scanned the road. At first he seemed not to notice anything. Then, he turned to us and pointed towards the road and nodded. They were here.
I could here the, shuffling and talking. They were unaware.
The sergeant motioned again. Ready.
They came closer, unaware of their fate. Still chuckling. I will be chuckling after this.
Sergeant again motioned. Set.
Thoughts raced through my mind. Would I be ready for the upcoming fight?
Sergeant didn't give me the chance to think. He motioned again. Follow me lead.
He reached for his belt and unsheathed his knife. He turned, and the rest happened in slow motion. In one motioned he round up and threw the knife. If rotated gracefully in the air, once then again. It finally reached its destination, and imbeded itself in a Russian chest.
To be continued...
And also I have sent my orders, may they allow me to pull off an upset victory agains the treachorus das and his evil French!! This may make or break my NES carrer, may Sheep have mercy on me. Forward my brave Germans, for country and Kaiser!! 
Btw, why am I suddenly "treacherous"?
