A hedge between two grainfields near East Waterboro, Maine
1945 15th october 17:23
Drip.. drip... drip... drip...
Anton looked at the water dripping off the front of his helmet. It was raining, it was wet and it was cold and the worst thing was that it all seemed so utterly pointless.
They had got here about an hour after sunrise, set up defensive positions along the hedge and then they had just waited. It was over 3 by now.. and still no sign of the enemy. Sure they saw the planes in the air, heard the rumble of artillery in the distance.. but still it seemed like they were in a totally wrong place, isolated, pointless.
He lifted his rifle a bit so it wouldn't lie in the mud all the time. While doing so his helmet slipped forward onto his eyes again... rgggrrrrrhhhhHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Anton jumped up and released a scream of fury, putting every gram of disgust, boredom, and annoyance that had gathered during the last 8 hours into it. He slammed his helmet to the ground and stared with fiery eyes filled at the politruk who was shouting something at him
SPLAT!!..
Petka looked in disbeliefed at the now faceless body of Anton with its brains sprayed all over the bushes behind him. Anton's body stood, then twitched a bit and collapsed.
Then he heard the crack of a rifle far away.
He looked over his shoulder for a second, seeing all his comrades hitting the ground, then forward seeing the cold desolate field and then back again to see what the platoon commander was doing
Where the hell had that come from? Pekta had scanned the other side of the field for hours.. at first out of interest, then out of boredom. He had seen nothing, and yet he had survived tens of sniper duels in Köningsberg and then later even more in Tokyo.
The platoon commander was signalling to come to him. Petka crawled backwards.
"Balabinski, you have 3 minutes to find a good position to cover the other side. Bait will be provided, at first tin, then live. Any questions?"
Petka shook his head. He crawled back towards the hedge, he knew the perfect place. When in place he signalled the commander and started watching the other side. The rain shrouded it from sight every few minutes but at the moment he could see over the field.
A soldier slowly raised his helmet on a stick... then another rose.. nothing happened. They tried this for about 5 minutes then the commander shouted a few orders and a private slowly stood up.
Petka saw the muzzleflash this time. He also heard a scream of pain from his left side which meant that the shot hadn't been fatal.
Quickly he trained his rifle at the place where the shot had come from. There was nothing there.. simply nothing..
Wait .. what was that.. something white.. wierd.. small white .. round in shape... now it dissapeared .. just vanished ... there it is again ... gone again ... no there it is ... its kinda blinking .... yes ... its someones eye!
Petka grinned as he finally saw the american.. he had been staring at the damned imperialist pig all the time. Masterful camouflage thought Petka and pulled the trigger.
The american lifted a bit and then fell down... seemingly limp. Through his gunsight Petka could see blood flowing down the face.
Not wanting to suffer the same fate, Petka quickly crawled backwards, then a bit left and to a new position. He looked around and saw that Bannikov had been the bait... he had been hit in the left shoulder.
Pekta sighed and then began hearing a low rumble. Something was moving on the other side.
4 american halftracks appeared, mounted on them were 20mm AA guns in quad mountings.
"Snipers take out the gunners! RPG's destroy halftracks! Everyone else give coverfire!" yelled the commander
And that had been it. Only one of the RPG's had hit and the gunners had been too well covered in their halftracks to be seen by the snipers.
Only 14 men survived from the whole platoon. 13 privates and one seargant.
They had fled over 2 miles before they finally met their own units.
Petka sighed again and put out his smoke.
"And thats all i can tell you dear boy, i was taken to a field hospital after that, and from there back to europe. I never made it back to the war. Now go play outside!"
Petka pat his grandson on the head and went for another cup of coffe....