- Pronouns
- he/him
- TNP Nation
- Arcanstotska
Sunday
8 September 1946
Around 4 AM
Outside Siloyev, Arcanstotska
Private Koldan Ilinov was jolted awake when the transport truck he was riding on drove over a bump in the road. He yawned and straightened his Army field pilotka cap whose sole decoration was a small pin on the front - the Second Republic’s coat of arms. To Koldan’s left sat another conscript, the radioman in his squad who was asleep. To his right sat his squad leader, a corporal by the name of Kolinkov.
Koldan looked up to see the skyline silhouette of Siloyev in the distance illuminated by air raid spotlights and fires. The crackling and booms of gun and cannon fire could be heard even from the road to the city. Koldan gripped his rifle tightly, thoughts of the fighting to come dancing about in his head. It wouldn’t be long before the convoy arrived at the northern bank of the Gusa River. From there, his unit would cross and go to fight the Mintorians for every street corner and apartment complex. Every refinery, book store, office building, and alleyway. The Commissars (Army officers ordered to maintain morale) declared on repetition that it was going to be some glorious patriotic struggle - like a broken record espousing glory in blood and death.
He felt a chill go up his spine at the thought of taking a life. Despite the training he had received and the constant rousing speeches by the Army Commissariat, the thought of actually killing a Mintorian soldier - a fellow human being - filled him with unease and even fear. Koldan yawned again and tried to drift back to sleep. He needed as much of it as he could get.
“Where’re you from, private?”
Someone else in the truck gave a light kick to Koldan’s boot. It was his platoon sergeant, a burly Balkarian man by the name of Puskov.
“Kolechia, Sergeant Puskov.”
“Kolechia huh? You from the peaks?”
“No, Sergeant. I’m from Liyev. I was a journalist before being conscripted.”
Puskov nodded. He looked… irritated. Disappointed.
“Have you seen any fighting before, Sergeant?” Koldan was hoping he’d be led by a veteran - someone who knew what they were doing. Puskov stayed silent and shot Koldan a look.
“I’ve seen plenty and I’ve plenty more to see. You’ll see plenty yourself. Stick with me and Corporal Kolinkov and you’ll be fine.” Koldan nodded, a little intimidated. He shut his eyes again and tried to drift off to sleep.
“Wake up, Private Ilinov! We’re here! First Platoon, form up on me!”
Koldan scrambled to grab his rifle and bags and gear before jumping off the truck and onto the cobblestone road. He straightened his pilotka cap and formed up with the rest of his platoon.
“Alright, boys! Get your shit together and get on the boats! We’re crossing the river to push the Minnies back and retake the capital!” Puskov barked and yelled. “C’mon let’s move!”
It was all happening so quickly. Koldan was in a small rowing boat with the rest of his platoon before he even knew what was going on. At the last minute before the boat took off, a Commissar hopped in and made his way to the front whilst Koldan sat in the back.
Mintorian fighters screamed overhead as they rained machinegun fire down on the boats and the men assembled on the river’s northern bank. Arcanstotskan soldiers ran and screamed and dove into cover. Many simply fell dead, cut to the ground by the machineguns wielded by the Mintorian fighter planes. A few boats sank as they took direct hits.
The planes passed by but Siloyev still lay ahead. Koldan took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to keep himself calm. The soldier next to him in the wooden craft uttered a Drakonist prayer, speaking too softly for Koldan to make out what he was saying.
They were almost to the south bank where a dock awaited them. The Commissar rose to speak.
“Welcome to Siloyev. You’re about to begin the greatest moment of your lives. The Mintorians have lost hundreds of tanks and planes. The Covenant’s brutalized hordes are now advancing towards Siloyev over mountains of their own dead bodies.”
The Commissar shifted his posture, standing proudly now. “Our Second Republic, our nation, our great country, has given us the task not to let the enemy reach the Gusa and to defend the city of Siloyev!”
A Mintorian fighter came in for a strafing run, narrowly missing the boat. “Forward, against the enemy! Up into the unremitting battle, soldiers! For Siloyev, for our great country!”
“Cowards and traitors will be shot! No retreat! No surrender!” He threatened, waving his sidearm about.
Koldan’s platoon shouted back, “No retreat! No surrender!”
The boat steadied and Koldan was able to keep what little he’d been able to eat in his stomach. “Do not count days! Do not count kilometers! Count only the number of Mintorians you have killed! ‘Kill the Mintorian!’ This is your mother’s prayer! ‘Kill the Mintorian!’ This is the cry of your Arcanstotskan eras! Do not waver! Do not let up! KILL!”
The boat pulled up beside the south bank dock. There were already plenty of men assembled up on the shore. “Death to the Mintorian invaders!” The Commissar screamed!
“Death to the Mintorian invaders!” All the men in the boat shouted in unison as a reply. One man climbed out, then another, and another. Koldan climbed out of the boat last with his rifle slung over his shoulder.
He rushed to keep up with his squad and platoon as they rushed over to the trenches dug along the bank of the river. Bursts of machinegun fire rained down from the edge of the city - a refinery the Mintorians had taken. They were at the very edge of the river.
“Forward, soldiers! Take the refinery! For the fatherland! Go!” There was a different Commissar here. An older man than the one who had been in the boat.
Everything was a blur. The man in front of Koldan was cut down by a machinegun bullet, splattering blood across Koldan’s face. For a moment he stopped as the shock of the moment took hold of him. Then another soldier pulled him to his feet and barked at him to press on.
It was loud as hell. All around him there was the sound of shouting men, gunfire, explosions, and the sound of bullets whizzing by. Koldan took a left in the trenches. He was squinting so he couldn’t see where he was supposed to go. There was so much dust and dirt and mud being kicked up that it may get in his eyes.
He stumbled upon another soldier who was lying face-down in the mud and gunk of the trenches. Koldan lifted the man up to wake him and tell him that he had to push on, only to be met with a body whose face was blown to hell. Startled, Koldan dropped the body’s shoulder, lept backward, and turned his head so he could vomit. He sat there for what felt like a thousand years, trying to process everything. He clutched his rifle tightly. Never before had he wanted to be home so badly.
Someone grabbed him by the shoulder. It was so sudden that his first instinct was to scream and draw up his rifle.
“Come on, Private Ilinov! We have to keep moving!” It was Sergeant Puskov. Koldan nodded and followed his NCO further through the trenches until they reached a breach in a wall. The pair climbed through. Now the loudest noise was the rattling of the Mintorian MG’s.
“Covenant soldiers are here in the refinery! We have to flush them out before we move on! This way!” Puskov led Koldan down a hallway, only stopping to open fire on a Mintorian machinegun crew. He shot the soldier manning the gun itself. The soldier whose task was to feed ammo to the emplacement frantically scrambled to take hold of a weapon before Puskov mowed him down with his submachine gun. Four bullet wounds were scattered about the Mintorian’s chest and he fell backward onto the sandbags. For a moment there was a gargling sound. Then the man went silent. Blood began to pool.
Puskov turned to Koldan. “Do you know how to work your weapon, Private?!”
Koldan struggled to reply amidst the fear of the moment. “Y-yes, sir!”
“Then fucking use it! And don’t ‘sir’ me! Now come on, we’ve got plenty more Mintorians that need killing!”
Koldan stared at the Mintorians for a moment before he snapped out of his shell shock. “Yes, Sergeant!” He slipped a clip of five rounds into his rifle and closed the bolt. He was ready to fire. He was ready to kill.
The pair met up with another element of Arcanstotskan soldiers who had been pinned down by a Mintorian platoon. Koldan dove for cover and peeked his head out to see the enemy. A Mintorian did the same and Koldan drew up his rifle. He pulled the trigger, landing a hit in the enemy soldier’s neck and forcing him onto the ground. His first kill. He felt a sickening twist in his stomach.
Puskov was talking with another soldier, presumably the other unit’s leader. “Suppressing fire!” One soldier yelled. Then all the other men opened up on the Mintorians. One or two were killed but the rest just stayed ducked behind the cover they had. Puskov rushed up and chucked a grenade behind them.
“Grenate!*” One Mintorian screamed.
“Scheisse! Scheisse! Scheisse!*” Another sounded panicked and frantic. The explosion silenced them all and even flung a man into the air. Puskov put a bullet in his face for good measure. Koldan forced himself not to look at the man as he walked by.
“Come on!” One of Koldan’s comrades shouted. He and everyone else followed. They came to a set of broken windows on the other end of the building. Mintorian soldiers were running away, seemingly in a panic. Another contingent of troops must have broken through the Minnies’ defensive line.
“The invaders are retreating! Shoot them! Shoot them!” Puskov bellowed.
“Are we to shoot them in the back?” Koldan was hesitant to fire upon fleeing soldiers, even if they were Mintorians.
“The back! The front! The ass! Wherever you wish! Just so long as you kill them!” Puskov fired wildly into the small crowd of running Mintorians, killing some and wounding others. Koldan and everyone else followed suit.
“Yes! Victory! For Arcanstotska!” Puskov cheered the slaughter as Mintorian after Mintorian were laid low with rifle and automatic fire. Then Arcanstotskan soldiers rushed up, cheering also before pressing on.
Koldan was still trying to process everything. He had been a journalist only a few weeks before. Now he was a killer. He felt sick. He felt disturbed. He felt like something was horribly wrong.
It was going to be a long war, he thought.
Grenate - Grenade
Scheisse - Shit
8 September 1946
Around 4 AM
Outside Siloyev, Arcanstotska
Private Koldan Ilinov was jolted awake when the transport truck he was riding on drove over a bump in the road. He yawned and straightened his Army field pilotka cap whose sole decoration was a small pin on the front - the Second Republic’s coat of arms. To Koldan’s left sat another conscript, the radioman in his squad who was asleep. To his right sat his squad leader, a corporal by the name of Kolinkov.
Koldan looked up to see the skyline silhouette of Siloyev in the distance illuminated by air raid spotlights and fires. The crackling and booms of gun and cannon fire could be heard even from the road to the city. Koldan gripped his rifle tightly, thoughts of the fighting to come dancing about in his head. It wouldn’t be long before the convoy arrived at the northern bank of the Gusa River. From there, his unit would cross and go to fight the Mintorians for every street corner and apartment complex. Every refinery, book store, office building, and alleyway. The Commissars (Army officers ordered to maintain morale) declared on repetition that it was going to be some glorious patriotic struggle - like a broken record espousing glory in blood and death.
He felt a chill go up his spine at the thought of taking a life. Despite the training he had received and the constant rousing speeches by the Army Commissariat, the thought of actually killing a Mintorian soldier - a fellow human being - filled him with unease and even fear. Koldan yawned again and tried to drift back to sleep. He needed as much of it as he could get.
“Where’re you from, private?”
Someone else in the truck gave a light kick to Koldan’s boot. It was his platoon sergeant, a burly Balkarian man by the name of Puskov.
“Kolechia, Sergeant Puskov.”
“Kolechia huh? You from the peaks?”
“No, Sergeant. I’m from Liyev. I was a journalist before being conscripted.”
Puskov nodded. He looked… irritated. Disappointed.
“Have you seen any fighting before, Sergeant?” Koldan was hoping he’d be led by a veteran - someone who knew what they were doing. Puskov stayed silent and shot Koldan a look.
“I’ve seen plenty and I’ve plenty more to see. You’ll see plenty yourself. Stick with me and Corporal Kolinkov and you’ll be fine.” Koldan nodded, a little intimidated. He shut his eyes again and tried to drift off to sleep.
“Wake up, Private Ilinov! We’re here! First Platoon, form up on me!”
Koldan scrambled to grab his rifle and bags and gear before jumping off the truck and onto the cobblestone road. He straightened his pilotka cap and formed up with the rest of his platoon.
“Alright, boys! Get your shit together and get on the boats! We’re crossing the river to push the Minnies back and retake the capital!” Puskov barked and yelled. “C’mon let’s move!”
It was all happening so quickly. Koldan was in a small rowing boat with the rest of his platoon before he even knew what was going on. At the last minute before the boat took off, a Commissar hopped in and made his way to the front whilst Koldan sat in the back.
Mintorian fighters screamed overhead as they rained machinegun fire down on the boats and the men assembled on the river’s northern bank. Arcanstotskan soldiers ran and screamed and dove into cover. Many simply fell dead, cut to the ground by the machineguns wielded by the Mintorian fighter planes. A few boats sank as they took direct hits.
The planes passed by but Siloyev still lay ahead. Koldan took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to keep himself calm. The soldier next to him in the wooden craft uttered a Drakonist prayer, speaking too softly for Koldan to make out what he was saying.
They were almost to the south bank where a dock awaited them. The Commissar rose to speak.
“Welcome to Siloyev. You’re about to begin the greatest moment of your lives. The Mintorians have lost hundreds of tanks and planes. The Covenant’s brutalized hordes are now advancing towards Siloyev over mountains of their own dead bodies.”
The Commissar shifted his posture, standing proudly now. “Our Second Republic, our nation, our great country, has given us the task not to let the enemy reach the Gusa and to defend the city of Siloyev!”
A Mintorian fighter came in for a strafing run, narrowly missing the boat. “Forward, against the enemy! Up into the unremitting battle, soldiers! For Siloyev, for our great country!”
“Cowards and traitors will be shot! No retreat! No surrender!” He threatened, waving his sidearm about.
Koldan’s platoon shouted back, “No retreat! No surrender!”
The boat steadied and Koldan was able to keep what little he’d been able to eat in his stomach. “Do not count days! Do not count kilometers! Count only the number of Mintorians you have killed! ‘Kill the Mintorian!’ This is your mother’s prayer! ‘Kill the Mintorian!’ This is the cry of your Arcanstotskan eras! Do not waver! Do not let up! KILL!”
The boat pulled up beside the south bank dock. There were already plenty of men assembled up on the shore. “Death to the Mintorian invaders!” The Commissar screamed!
“Death to the Mintorian invaders!” All the men in the boat shouted in unison as a reply. One man climbed out, then another, and another. Koldan climbed out of the boat last with his rifle slung over his shoulder.
He rushed to keep up with his squad and platoon as they rushed over to the trenches dug along the bank of the river. Bursts of machinegun fire rained down from the edge of the city - a refinery the Mintorians had taken. They were at the very edge of the river.
“Forward, soldiers! Take the refinery! For the fatherland! Go!” There was a different Commissar here. An older man than the one who had been in the boat.
Everything was a blur. The man in front of Koldan was cut down by a machinegun bullet, splattering blood across Koldan’s face. For a moment he stopped as the shock of the moment took hold of him. Then another soldier pulled him to his feet and barked at him to press on.
It was loud as hell. All around him there was the sound of shouting men, gunfire, explosions, and the sound of bullets whizzing by. Koldan took a left in the trenches. He was squinting so he couldn’t see where he was supposed to go. There was so much dust and dirt and mud being kicked up that it may get in his eyes.
He stumbled upon another soldier who was lying face-down in the mud and gunk of the trenches. Koldan lifted the man up to wake him and tell him that he had to push on, only to be met with a body whose face was blown to hell. Startled, Koldan dropped the body’s shoulder, lept backward, and turned his head so he could vomit. He sat there for what felt like a thousand years, trying to process everything. He clutched his rifle tightly. Never before had he wanted to be home so badly.
Someone grabbed him by the shoulder. It was so sudden that his first instinct was to scream and draw up his rifle.
“Come on, Private Ilinov! We have to keep moving!” It was Sergeant Puskov. Koldan nodded and followed his NCO further through the trenches until they reached a breach in a wall. The pair climbed through. Now the loudest noise was the rattling of the Mintorian MG’s.
“Covenant soldiers are here in the refinery! We have to flush them out before we move on! This way!” Puskov led Koldan down a hallway, only stopping to open fire on a Mintorian machinegun crew. He shot the soldier manning the gun itself. The soldier whose task was to feed ammo to the emplacement frantically scrambled to take hold of a weapon before Puskov mowed him down with his submachine gun. Four bullet wounds were scattered about the Mintorian’s chest and he fell backward onto the sandbags. For a moment there was a gargling sound. Then the man went silent. Blood began to pool.
Puskov turned to Koldan. “Do you know how to work your weapon, Private?!”
Koldan struggled to reply amidst the fear of the moment. “Y-yes, sir!”
“Then fucking use it! And don’t ‘sir’ me! Now come on, we’ve got plenty more Mintorians that need killing!”
Koldan stared at the Mintorians for a moment before he snapped out of his shell shock. “Yes, Sergeant!” He slipped a clip of five rounds into his rifle and closed the bolt. He was ready to fire. He was ready to kill.
The pair met up with another element of Arcanstotskan soldiers who had been pinned down by a Mintorian platoon. Koldan dove for cover and peeked his head out to see the enemy. A Mintorian did the same and Koldan drew up his rifle. He pulled the trigger, landing a hit in the enemy soldier’s neck and forcing him onto the ground. His first kill. He felt a sickening twist in his stomach.
Puskov was talking with another soldier, presumably the other unit’s leader. “Suppressing fire!” One soldier yelled. Then all the other men opened up on the Mintorians. One or two were killed but the rest just stayed ducked behind the cover they had. Puskov rushed up and chucked a grenade behind them.
“Grenate!*” One Mintorian screamed.
“Scheisse! Scheisse! Scheisse!*” Another sounded panicked and frantic. The explosion silenced them all and even flung a man into the air. Puskov put a bullet in his face for good measure. Koldan forced himself not to look at the man as he walked by.
“Come on!” One of Koldan’s comrades shouted. He and everyone else followed. They came to a set of broken windows on the other end of the building. Mintorian soldiers were running away, seemingly in a panic. Another contingent of troops must have broken through the Minnies’ defensive line.
“The invaders are retreating! Shoot them! Shoot them!” Puskov bellowed.
“Are we to shoot them in the back?” Koldan was hesitant to fire upon fleeing soldiers, even if they were Mintorians.
“The back! The front! The ass! Wherever you wish! Just so long as you kill them!” Puskov fired wildly into the small crowd of running Mintorians, killing some and wounding others. Koldan and everyone else followed suit.
“Yes! Victory! For Arcanstotska!” Puskov cheered the slaughter as Mintorian after Mintorian were laid low with rifle and automatic fire. Then Arcanstotskan soldiers rushed up, cheering also before pressing on.
Koldan was still trying to process everything. He had been a journalist only a few weeks before. Now he was a killer. He felt sick. He felt disturbed. He felt like something was horribly wrong.
It was going to be a long war, he thought.
Grenate - Grenade
Scheisse - Shit
