LC Excerpt 3 part 2

Chapter 9

I watch as what's left of the supermarket collapses. It must have been a military strongpoint as command ordered it be destroyed. I have mixed feelings. Despite there being civilians in the building who have now undoubtedly perished, I hold the precision strike as the lesser of two evils. Our previous order to raze the entire city and disregard the people within would have been a far greater tragedy.

Hoping to capture the city as quickly and with as few unnecessary deaths as possible, my unit prepares to press forward and eliminate any remaining hostiles.

Before doing so, I radio command to confirm the assault is complete. It's lucky I do, as they inform me they planned one delayed attack to catch any survivors who think they've escaped death off guard. I have clearance to proceed once the final strike has been conducted.

Entering my armoured vehicle with a heavy heart, I take a deep breath. Just get this over with. I'll be at home with the family in a few days. Just get this over with.

I turn my head to the left when the driver's door opens. The driver doesn't get in; instead, he hesitates and glances behind the truck.

All is quiet.

A bird cries out, its song one of desperation, and a bullet rips through my driver's head. Blood sprays, his body crashes against the open door, and he collapses.

Wasting no time, I check the ignition and see the keys swinging to and fro. I slide into the driver's seat and hear a bellow, "Retreat! Now!"

Bullets slam against the back of the armoured vehicles as soldiers hurry inside their trucks.

I hit the gas and fly down the street, quickly turning the corner to the first street we reach. Once safe, covered by an apartment complex, we exit our vehicle. A few seconds pass, three more vehicles arrive, and their occupants exit. There are sixteen of us. Two more vehicles arrive shortly after, but only four men get out.

There were forty-two of us before the attack.

"Damn it, how did they sneak up on us? Did anyone see where they were?"

"Up on a roof on the north side of the street. I didn't see many people up there but I didn't get a good look. They've lost their advantage. Let's take them out!"

Some grumbling approval comes from the men.

Examining the survivors, I see I have the highest rank now. I take a second to think, then order, "No, we will complete our objective and clear out the target ahead. Let them follow us, and we can set an ambush. We don't need to lose any more men today."

We arrive at the ruins of the grocery store. The surrounding buildings are in shambles. The strike flattened the grocery store, with not a single wall left standing.

I survey the area.

No survivors.

I signal my platoon.

We push on.

Chapter 10

"Ha, that was fucking beautiful!"

I slap Genya on the back, enjoying the adrenaline and dopamine cocktail in my boiling blood.

After our attack, what was left of the enemy fled toward the remains of the grocery store we mostly evacuated. My tunnel vision fades, the rest of our situation comes into focus, and I think about survivors.

Aware of the fact the enemy could be around any corner, I shout, "The scum flees, but they left our people buried. We'll approach the wreckage and search for survivors, but carefully. My squad will sift through the rubble while the rest of you patrol the immediate area. The enemy may have run, but they do so with vengeance in their minds. Be ready for anything."

We climb down the ladder and return to our vehicles. As I lead us back to the decimated grocery store, two squads break off from the platoon, fanning out to scan the area.

I park in the rubble-covered parking lot and begin digging through the ruins. A soldier who was with the civilians when we arrived at the store steps next to me. I ask him, "Do you remember where the basement is? Perhaps some found refuge there."

"Of course." The soldier turns left and maps the area before carefully traversing the rubble. He pauses, looks around, alters his course to the left slightly, then continues forward. Finally, he stops and yells, "It's me, Vitaly. I was here with you before the attack. Can anyone hear me?"

Nothing.

Vitaly confirms he's in the right spot, then continues, "Can anyone hear me?"

Nothing.

Not quick to give up, Vitaly finds a long metal pole among the debris and uses it to pry up pieces of rubble. Helping him remove more debris, we finally uncover the stairwell, which was covered but not totally filled. He yells through the hole we've made, "Hello, it's me, Vitaly. Can anyone hear me?"

Only silence follows Vitaly's echo.

As I pull out my flashlight, planning on entering and searching for any unconscious victims, shuffling sounds come from beyond the bottom landing. A face emerges from the darkness, illuminated by my flashlight.

Sveta is almost unrecognizable. She steps into the sunlight, which gently shines through the new opening, her red dress dirty and torn, her face streaked with makeup and fresh tears. She gives us a feeble smile before calling out to those behind her.

I call for transport, then we carefully help twelve survivors from their shelter. Miraculously, they made it to cover while the store was being torn apart. The woman recounts how a blast sent her crashing into a shelf, but she remained conscious and crawled the rest of the way down the stairs.

Once the survivors are loaded onto a bus, we regroup.

...

Blasts shake the air around me as I exit my vehicle. The men are clearly on edge despite ample cover by buildings on either side of the alley we've met in. Understandably so. Nearby attacks, even with all my experience, are something I have yet to get used to and likely never will.

I take a second, gather myself, and speak in a slow, serious tone, "Today, you've done more than enough to earn your trip to paradise, but here I am, asking more of you. We are here for one reason, to protect our people, our home, our democracy, and our freedom. Yet, while we fight for democracy, we generally don't operate democratically. A strong chain of command allows us to react quickly and decisively, but at the moment, I find it difficult to determine our next objective. On the one hand, joining our men in the northeast is wise. Strength in numbers and all that, not to mention it's what command wants. But then, well, this wrath inside me pulls me in another direction." I pause, feeling my composure slipping away as I continue far more emotionally, "Its red rage has eyes for only one: those who ordered an air strike on a grocery store. I watched them arrive and hide before the strike, and despite believing one should always respect their adversary, those cowards will get no respect from me. Now, while I'd love to join our brothers and sisters on the front line, I cannot fight this feeling I have, similar to one with rats in their house. There are invaders in our city. There are bugs on the walls of our beautiful home. I say we find and squash the intruding insects. This is our home, and I don't remember inviting them, do you? But, of course, acting solely on my emotions is unwise, so I leave the choice to you, fearless warriors. A vote, left hand up for joining the fray to the northeast, right hand up to hunt those cunts down and bury them."

James looks at me skeptically. How I judged him wrong when we first met. The once shell-shocked youth has proven himself more than once today, demonstrating he can get the job done when needed. He speaks up, "I'd love to take them out, sir, but how can we find them? It's an enormous city. They could be anywhere."

Smiling, I tap the back of the vehicle Genya is leaning on, who reluctantly moves out of the way. I open the door, revealing four drones. "I found these when the trucks arrived. We can deploy them in the direction the enemy fled and see if we can't cure our city of one of the infections eating away at it. We find those termites and exterminate them. But, like I said, I'm feeling democratic. Left hand up for a trip to the northeast, right for extermination."

It doesn't take much time before every right hand, except one, is in the air. I give a nod of approval before turning my gaze to Genya, who has returned to leaning against the truck, hands in his pockets.

"You know what you're suggesting is suicidal, right? Those cunts will be waiting. Even if we can take them out, it'll be a bloody mess." Pausing, he stares at the ground and kicks a pile of dirt before continuing, "I miss life on my farm. I used to complain all the time, but I'd trade anything to be back there, even though the last couple of years have been hard going. Harvests just weren't great. I guess we needed more fertilizer." Looking up with a grin, he continues, "Let's go make some more fertilizer then."

Genya's smile is contagious, and all of a sudden, I'm cracking up. Despite the dire circumstances, the idea that by eliminating the enemy, we will also be helping Genya have a better harvest brings tears to my eyes.

"We do this for Genya's tomatoes, then. May they be as big as melons."

This receives a roar of approval, and we set up and deploy our drones.

Chapter 14

My city is a piece of my life that has always filled me with pride. I feel blessed to have grown up surrounded by the architectural wonders that line the city centre, guarded by stone statues crafted in the likeness of those great men and women who once walked these streets. Some stood for causes worth fighting for, while others gave their lives to protect their home. Some researched, some governed, and some designed; but now, all watch over us. Through our struggles, their unmoving presence continues to be a daily reminder to stand strong against every hardship encountered.

Explosions shake me while I eat my breakfast. I stroll several steps away from the window and continue eating. The aggressors continue to take, but I refuse to let them ruin my delicious breakfast. I savour my last bite, the taste of fried potatoes and onions lingering on my tongue long after I wash my dishes and rest them on the rack to dry.

I relax in my favourite chair and slowly sip my steaming cup of coffee. I've always liked cinnamon in my morning brew, the taste perfectly complimenting the coffee's bitterness. As the new flavours replace the old, the power goes out. I let out a deep sigh. Today's going to be a long day.

Due to the regular attacks, my city has grown quieter since the beginning of the war, with many leaving to seek shelter in neighbouring cities and countries. While some departed, others stuck around despite the frequent attacks against the civilian infrastructure. I can leave at any time, yet here I stay.

I am inspired, and my courage bolstered, by those around me who remain steadfast, continuing to live their lives, some even cheerily.

Some say we stay because we don't have the money to leave, but this is far from the truth. The government and various volunteer organizations have places to house those who must evacuate, and transportation costs are also covered.

Some say we are lunatics, unable to see that nothing good can come from lingering. Perhaps this is closer to the truth as if the city is captured, we face one of three fates: becoming citizens of an enemy-controlled city, being forcefully deported to enemy territory, or for those deemed a threat, imprisoned, tortured and or executed. Yet, despite the grim outcome if our city were to be occupied, we remain.

Why then? Why choose a war zone as one's home rather than somewhere one can rest without fear?

I've spent many nights hunched over the counter of a smokey underground bar, which also operates as a bomb shelter when the need arises. I find it difficult to put into words why I choose to stay, so between drinks and games of pool, I ask the same question to those sheltering with me.

After much semi-sober research, it perplexes me how outsiders could have so misunderstood our grounds for staying. We are not chained by a poverty that bullies us into bearing air strikes as part of our everyday struggle. On the contrary, I couldn't find a single chain holding anyone to this place. Instead, the people I speak to are defiant, brave, and relentless. They tell me this is their home, they were raised on these streets, and if they have to die on these streets, so be it.

There's fear in us, naturally. But, even so, in us is far more anger towards you who tries to dominate our people and love in abundance for the sticks and stones that make up our home.

Many try to imagine what life has been like for us over the last several months, but I am unable to describe my experience regarding this subject. It has been a blur of uncertainty, survival, togetherness, and faith.

The citizens of this great city, whom I am honoured to call myself one of, have the option to flee yet choose to remain. Those who say we are trapped, unable to escape our dire circumstances, one day will learn how we bravely stood alongside the stone representations of our past heroes. Unlike the statues, we are free to run, yet we are as unmoving as them. We are shaken and exhausted, but still, we stand. This city is not just its magnificent structures, enchanting parks, and historical wonders but also its citizens. As we survive, so does the city.

We have not fled.

Our choices are what define us.

Missiles shake the very stone on which our homes are built. We will not abandon them.

Ones with hearts such as ours, whether victorious or defeated, will always be free.

Chapter 16

I operate the ground control system, guiding my quadcopter through the streets I used to run through. There's something surreal about seeing the city from this angle, and my mind momentarily wanders, conjuring a memory. In it, I smell my mom's Christmas cooking as twelve mouthwatering dishes come and go, each as delicious as the last. I'm practically drooling as my hands guide the bird in the sky, searching for our prey.

After eating that Christmas meal, we retired to the living room. The TV played something in the background as the four of us played a board game. We didn't have more than a weak heater, but all the talking and laughing warmed the room. Nothing can beat those nights when my family was whole. Now we are divided.

Where's my brother now? I know he's also a soldier, but it's hard to believe he could fight against us in the city where he was born. Despite the leadership of his country constantly trying to assert absolute control over its so-called subjects, there's nothing they can do to force my brother to help tear down the city he loves. This I hold as an absolute fact.

To the left of me, Genya, who's also operating a drone, yells, "Found them!"

Chapter 17

I hold it together in front of the others, but on the inside, I'm seething. In our society, freaking out isn't wise, as one can lose their life by slipping up at the wrong time. But driving alone toward the next target, outrage tears through my carefully controlled features.

It's not just that we were forced to retreat with our tails between our legs. It's all of this. We were promised this would be a quick campaign. In and out, welcomed with open arms by those we liberated. But, instead, we've been at this for two hundred and fifty days with no end in sight.

What is most astonishing is I still can't quite say what the fighting is over. Language and religion? A land corridor? Resources? All I know is our leader's initial confident rhetoric has changed to that of the victim, now telling us we fight to defend our motherland, as the enemy will destroy everything that makes us who we are and decimate our country.

After being lied to uncountable times, it's hard to believe anything. Despite knowing it's foolish, my radio's set to full blast, the heavy base drum and screeching guitar clashing with my chaotic thoughts, but to no avail.

I'm so sick of this!

I want this to end!

I want my life back!

My wife and kids are waiting for me at home, a small but cozy house by the mountains. There's a massive pile of chopped wood next to the house, so there will never be a cold night, and a river overflowing with fish behind the house, so there'll never be an empty stomach. I'm in no way wealthy, but I was content. Just me, my family, fresh air and no cares.

How it all seems like a sweet dream now. Part of me believes that's all it ever was, a dream. Sometimes I wake up sure I'll never return home.

I dream of mushroom clouds.

I dream of devastation.

I see no other end to this conflict, knowing I'll likely be thrown into the inferno our leader feeds with the bodies of his people. The inferno grows larger every day.

I'm losing control, acknowledging how trapped I am. I slam the steering wheel and shout at the barren city. I berate God for creating a conflict from which there can be no peaceful solution.

I am miserable.

I will do whatever it takes to end this.

Even if it means never being able to look at myself in the mirror, I'll do what needs to be done. I'll smash every damn mirror as long as I can return to my cozy little home.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

First, those who pursue me.

A plan materializes in my mind and calm returns. Simple yet effective. An overconfident enemy is easily vanquished.

Chapter 18

Genya reports, "The vehicles that retreated from our fight earlier are sitting in front of a police station. It looks like they're empty. Those cowards are probably hiding or scavenging for ammo and weapons, waiting for us to take them out!"

He receives a loud roar of approval from the surrounding men, everyone except me. We caught them off guard the first time, but it won't be as easy during our next attack. They're expecting us now. We won't catch them off-guard twice.

The group notices my silence and quiet as they turn and stare. Finally, I address them, "We could chase them, but they likely expect we're hot on their trail, eagerly hunting them. If I were them, I'd make it look like they're hiding in the police station. Park the vehicles outside one building but shelter in another."

I take a moment to think before continuing, "This's what we'll do. I want four of you to stay back and operate the drones. Update us if you catch sight of anything suspicious. The rest of us will approach together but split into 2 squads a couple blocks from the target location. The two on-foot squads will move towards the intersections on either end of the police station. You don't want to reveal yourselves until we know where they are hiding, so keep your distance until you hear my signal. My squad will take the vehicles, with only one or two men in each. Let's make it look like we're pushing forward at full force. They have no idea how many of us ambushed them, so hopefully, we can make them believe we're recklessly pursuing them. Hopefully, they'll start firing and give up their position. Once we know where they are, you converge and crush them. No prisoners. Good?"

Genya runs a hand through his short black hair. He replies, "So the plan is to walk into an ambush? You sure you want to drive straight at them?"

I reply without hesitation, "These cunts came and fucked up everything. Remember when this was a cultural center attracting great minds from all over the world. Now, anyone with half a brain knows not to come anywhere near. This will always be my home, but the painful memories being written into existence every day are coming closer to outweighing the good ones. I'll happily risk my life if doing so offers me the opportunity of ending our people's suffering. We'll secure our city, one dead soldier at a time. The plan stands. Anyone who wants to come for a drive, step forward."

No one steps forward.

"No one? None of you are sick of this war? Did no one see what they did to a civilian structure moments ago? What do you think they'll do to your wives and children when they find them? James, your beautiful wife, do you want her to end up a fucktoy for the enemy? They will not treat her kindly should we fail."

My glare is unwavering, aimed at the young man. I feel guilty using such language to persuade him to accompany me on such a dangerous mission, but my plan requires multiple vehicles driving through the area to draw enemy fire, and if he should agree to accompany me, perhaps others will follow suit.

James' face goes white, and he stutters, "Of course not. I love her more than anything. No one's going to lay a finger on her. I'll ride with you."

"Anyone else?"

Every soldier steps forward. I pick a handful from the group of fearless combatants to stay back with the drones, then command, "Let's go."

Chapter 20

The air is frigid. Winter quickly approaches. A nearby blast shakes the structure I'm waiting in. Our vehicles can be seen from here, positioned around the police station entrance. Drones fly above the vehicles before turning back. That's good. They've taken the bait and should roll in guns blazing any time now. I have a few men with me whom I send to the top of a stairwell, ready to rush onto the roof, take out any drones monitoring the area and rain fire down upon the unsuspecting enemy. Blind them and ambush them.

I split my remaining soldiers into two groups, hidden at both ends of the street where the police station is.