//------------------------------// // Chapter 3/Russia: Breathe In // Story: Red Banners, Red Stains // by BurgerFanMan //------------------------------// In times of war, the truest test of humanity is not in how well we defend ourselves, but in how fiercely we protect and uplift those around us. ???, August 6th, 2045. 9:00 AM Everything went white. Lieutenant Colonel Rujy Nagarin blinked, wondering why his vision had flashed white for a moment. He dismissed it and turned his attention back to the table covered with screens, radio phones, and documents- the 'command center' of the Volki task force air division. There was a moment of silence, then every radio burst to life at once. "We've lost two-" "-where in God's name-" "-engines failing, I repeat, engines failing-" Rujy sighed and hit the 'BROADCAST ALL' button. "Command to all units, remember your training. Raise your hand before speaking, over," he ordered with a strong Russian accent. All of the radios were silent before one brave operator spoke up. "Command, Pilot Sokolov here. We appear to no longer be in Antarctica, check your camera feeds. Over." The Lieutenant Colonel looked up at the wall of screens to see that they were, in fact, currently flying above what appeared to be an endless landscape of plains and forests. He tapped a nearby soldier on the shoulder, who picked up the radio set and lugged it behind Rujy as he rushed up a flight of metal stairs to the deck with the cockpit. Inside, the two pilots were desperately poring over a set of manuals and a map. "Ah, Lieutenant Colonel," one of the pilots saluted. "We seem to-" Rujy cut him off, "Yes, I know, comrade." He stared into the horizon. A vast body of water sparkled in the distance; a huge lake or the sea. Below, there were lush, green plains and patches of thick woods. A huge city sat on the coast, far to what the compass claimed was the south. He fiddled with the radio as the pilot attempted again to explain the situation. "Sir, all of our engines have failed. We're currently gliding on a helpful wind current, but we can't stay up for long. The other aircraft report similar problems. Dedushka suggest-" The poor pilot was cut off yet again by a buzz from the radio. "Unit 1-5 to Command. 2-11 is breaking off from the formation and all communication has ceased. Requesting permission to pursue. Over." Rujy's face tightened, and he held down the broadcast button again. "Command here. Permission denied, 1-5. We don't understand the situation yet, stay in formation. Over." After he received 1-5's confirmation, he opened a line to the communications and navigation officers. "Sargent Polsky Vlad, try to contact allied forces. Lieutenant, figure out where we are and if there's anywhere we can land if needed. Over." The navigation officer replied almost instantly, "The computerised maps can't figure out anything with the data we have, sir. This is either uncharted territory or it hasn't been scouted for some time now. As for landing, the sea in the distance is looking very inviting, comrade. Over. "Well then, Lieutenant, guide our fleet there. We'll be landing on the coast. Sarge, what've you got?" "No response, comrade. Either the 38th' is sleeping or we're flying above the Yanks. Over." "Sir, this chunk of metal won't make it to the coast. Too much weight." Rujy muttered a curse and shoved the radio set into the arms of an officer just outside the cockpit without explanation. He leaped over the railing of the deck onto the main cargo floor of the plane, where soldiers sat along the edges or hurried around to prepare for the landing. A huge supertank occupied most of the space- the Blackbear model tank; pride of the Russian armored forces. The Lieutenant Colonel barked orders to prepare the Blackbear to be deployed via parachute, which the soldiers hurriedly complied with. He climbed over the metal frame of the supertank till he reached the hatch, and swung it open to reveal a ladder leading down to a barely visible, dark space. "Soldiers, we need to deploy the Blackbear. Are you ready?" "Uhhh almost sir, just need to finish some last-minute preparations and make sure the crate with parts is securely fastened," said the tank captain. A muffled noise floated up that sounded suspiciously like someone eating chips. "No worries, comrade. You can wait till we land, eh?" Rujy grinned and hopped down from the tank, nodding to the group of soldiers standing ready to strap the tank to its parachute. Another soldier rushed to the cargo plane's ramp and set his fist just over the heavy red button on the wall. The young Lieutenant Colonel checked the straps of the crate full of parts necessary for the Blackbear to operate, then helped a soldier trying to attach another crate full of what appeared to be survival supplies. Seeing the preparations completed, the Lieutenant Colonel signaled the soldier next to the ramp and held the railing along the edge of the plane firmly. The rest of the crew in the cabin did so too, and the soldier at the ramp hit the button. "Hey, tank crew, buckle up! We're getting some turbulence!" shouted Rujy at the tank, receiving an illegible, muffled reply. The ramp lowered open and the tank rolled down the cabin, out of the plane. The unfortunate soldier next to the ramp, forgetting to brace himself, was also pulled out by the force of the wind. The Lieutenant carefully rushed over to close the ramp, peeking out below he did so to see a group of three heavy parachutes and one, much smaller parachute blossom open far below. The Blackbear and the soldier were safe. He slammed the 'CLOSE' button and made his way back up the cabin to the cockpit as the ramp slid close. He was greeted by the sight of the rapidly approaching body of water which was evidently too big to be a lake. A fighter jet zoomed overhead, despite the engines of all the planes having failed. Rujy turned to the free pilot with his eyebrows raised. The pilot explained, "We're caught in a strange wind current, leytenant polkovnik. It's letting us glide almost effortlessly, and the jets are struggling to keep formation." After a moment's thought, Rujy shrugged it off. As long as they weren't barreling towards the ground or zooming at unimaginable speeds, he'd leave the flying to the pilots. Grabbing a pen and paper, he sat down on a stool just next to the plane's controls and began sketching out their formation. The cargo planes formed a loose 'W' shape, keeping the most vital ones securely in the middle and relatively safe from enemy fighters or anti-air weapons. In total there were 13 left; 2-5 had been lost in the quick skirmish with the American aircraft carrier, and 2-11 had just broken off, probably deserting. That left a gap in the middle front and back right of the 'W', positions which they didn't necessarily have to fill. Around the cargo planes were 4 aircraft wings, each having 5 fighter jets. They loosely covered possible attack vectors on the formation and would harass enemy fighters or distract anti-aircraft if the Volki were attacked, giving the cargo planes enough time to escape or deploy their forces. Overall, it was a well-prepared, carefully thought-out task force that could easily destroy any minor enemy unit: the best Rujy could have asked for on such short notice and with the ongoing war. But nothing could have prepared them for teleporting deep behind potentially enemy lines, in an area they had no info on. The Lieutenant Colonel furrowed his brow, wondering how they'd get out of this situation. Snatching up another spare paper from the stack on the ground, he began drawing a map of the surrounding landscape while he took a moment to think. If we can see the north half of the city, they may be able to see us and almost certainly hear us. We must be wary of any garrisoned forces. The farmlands only stretch out a couple of kilometers from the city limits. If we're fast, we can skirt around far enough on foot to not be noticed by anyone and still get far away before the enemy investigates our aircraft. Dammit, we should have given our comrades in the Blackbear long-range radios! I promised I'd write to Babushka a few weeks ago... "Lieutenant Colonel, preparing to land. We've found a nice, sandy beach with clear seas around- perfect for landing the fleet. Shall we proceed?" "Ja, Pilot, go ahead. Coordinate and make sure we aren't all landing in the same spot." Rujy stumbled out of the cockpit into the main cabin dimly lit by red emergency lights, where the crew were hastily putting their belongings in secure containers and strapping themselves into seats. A squad of young-looking soldiers crouched by the closed ramp, clutching rifles with a small rubber craft set in between the squad. Rujy approached them. "Shouldn't you be in your seats?" One of the soldiers turned to him- a Sergeant Major- and smirked at him. "Officer, we're doing a lot more than you, sitting on your ass in the cockpit." Rujy raised his eyebrows at this blatant disrespect. Another soldier tapped the Sergeant Major and whispered into his ear. Rujy barely caught the words, "Jona, that's the Lieutenant Colonel. See the insignia." Jona laughed and spoke out loud. "Just playing around with you... Lieutenant Colonel. Nice to meet you, I'm Jona Bolkov," he said casually, sticking out his hand for a shake instead of saluting as he should have. Rujy smiled coldly and accepted it. One of the advantages of being extremely young for the job was that no one expected an officer in their mid-30s to be the highest ranking person in the area; he could easily assess how his soldiers actually behaved, when they weren't putting on a show for the brass. "Bolkov? Are you perhaps related to-" "Boris Bolkov, da. He's my dyadya, uncle." Rujy nodded approvingly. "Boris is a great soldier. It's a shame they pulled him off the front to tour Russia. I hope you'll be at least a tenth as good as him. Anyways, let us not get off track," he motioned towards the rubber boat and tense soldiers. "What's with all of this?" "Well, comrade, we'll be towing the plane to shore after we land. Got to be quick, we don't want the plane to get shredded by rocks. If you're not as insane as us, you should enjoy one of those comfy seats over there." Hm. Jona doesn't show the respect he should towards his superiors, but him being Boris' nephew has to mean something, as well as him having such an important job on the plane... I'll keep him in check, for his own good. Right on cue, Rujy felt the plane begin its descent and listened to the pilot announcing their imminent landing. He hurriedly strapped himself into the seat closest to the ramp, next to a smoking soldier who somehow managed not to swallow the cigarette despite the bumpy ride down to the water. The cabin was mostly silent except for the occasional clink of metal against metal as rifle stocks collided with the floor. The Lieutenant Colonel could practically feel the tension in the air- it seemed news of their sudden teleportation had spread, or that the stress of their skirmish with the American carrier had finally caught up. The plane shook lightly as it splashed onto the water, landing as smoothly as possible without its engines to control its speed and rotation. Even as the plane was still slowing to a halt, Jona's squad opened the ramp and dragged the rubber boat to the edge. Rujy blinked away the bright light bursting into the plane to see a sandy, golden beach a few hundred meters away. To the left and right, the other cargo planes were landing in a similar fashion as the command plane: they flew in low over the beach to meet the water just a few meters ahead, then used their air flaps to quickly slow down while skidding over the sea. Meanwhile, the fighter jet pilots had much more trouble. Most of them landed smoothly along the beach, but others weren't so fortunate. The fighters landing in the water almost immediately disappeared as the sea swallowed them up, their pilots hurriedly crawling out of the cabins and swimming for land. The Lieutenant grimaced as he took in the last cargo plane coming in; its left wing was dented and it seemed to be struggling to control its descent. As he and the rest of the soldiers in the cabin watched, the plane came in too low and failed to glide over the beach. Instead, the front of the plane crumpled into the hard earth and dirt just behind the sandy beach, with the fuselage rolling over before coming to a rest at the very edge of the beach. The shallow water lapped at its base as the wreckage slid slightly into the ground. Rujy shouted to Jona's squad, who were already in the small rubber craft, hooked up to the cargo plane and ready to tow it to land. "Get a move on! We need to help our comrades!" No one responded as the boat's motor roared to life and it began tugging the plane to shore. Slowly. Painfully slowly. As the boat pulled the plane to the beach, Rujy organised the other planes over the radio and prepared them to aid the crashed one. Fortunately, there had been no issues in landing besides the crash, and they had only lost 6 fighter jets. The landed jet pilots on the beach were already pulling survivors out from the wrecked plane where they could. Rujy wished he could get their info on the situation, but their radios were firmly fastened to the jet cabins. By the time the command cargo plane reached the shore, two others had already docked and were now swarming over the plane wreck with heavy equipment and medical supplies, helping those they could and identifying those they couldn't. The heavy ramp of the plane touched the bed of the shallow water, and Rujy ordered the men to aid with helping the crash victims as planned. Meanwhile, he had a vital meeting to attend to. "A small scout unit is moving through the forest here," a wrinkled, gnarled hand pointed at a shaded part of the crudely drawn map, "and will report back to us in 10." Rujy glanced back from his careful observation of the emergency aid taking place on the plane wreck. By now, every body- dead or alive- had been cleared from the crash and moved to triage. Most of the non-medical personnel were currently occupied with extracting what equipment and vehicles they could. "Ah, dedushka, good call on that. I suggest we pack up and leave as soon as the scouts return. Our aerial 'incursion' no doubt attracted Yankee buzzers, and we must find a suitable place to treat the wounded." The third member standing around the metal stool spoke up indignantly, "Are you insane? We have no idea where we are or we can go, our injured may not make the journey,"- he motioned at the medics desperately operating on the sand- "and the enemy will find us no matter what. It would be best to make a stand here, with the shelter and equipment of the aircraft, instead of wandering off looking for a safe haven!" "Captain Rolan Semyonov. I'd like to remind you who is in cha-" "I know who's in charge, and you're an incompetent fool. Captain Artimey here is five times your age and ten times more experienced." Rujy's felt hot frustration and rage boil up inside him. Yet another subordinate questioning him simply because of how young he was. It was with a measured voice that he stated, "You may bring up the issue with High Command. For now, we must get out of wherever this is, if we hope to have at least a chance of surviving. It will do us no good to fight. Comrade?" Captain Rolan huffed and marched off in defeat, only sparing a salute to Rujy. Captain Artimey, the old, blue bereted officer, chuckled as he swept the map off the stool and lowered himself onto it. "You should not antagonise Semyonov, Nagarin. Although he may appear to be rash and short-tempered, he's one of the best officers I know. Almost like Boris, if Boris was sensitive about his age." Rujy laughed despite the awful situation and current dispute. "Uverennaya veshch', dedushka. I won't let him disrespect me, though." The old Captain simply nodded and began conversing with another junior officer. Rujy took this to mean that Artimey approved of his plan, and set out to prepare the men to leave. It was in grim silence that the now 500-strong battalion marched down a loose dirt path in the thick forest, the late afternoon sun barely filtering in on them. Their 30 or so vehicles had been reserved for carrying supplies and wounded, leaving most of the soldiers to walk on foot. At this point, everyone understood what was happening. They had teleported deep into enemy territory, likely by American tech, been forced to ditch their aircraft, and had entirely lost two cargo planes' crews and supplies. The Blackbear was separated from the main force, leaving both parties highly vulnerable to an attack, and they had no idea where they were. Suffice it to say, morale was low and Rujy found even himself being infected by the poor mood. He focused on keeping himself updated on the status of the injured, rationing efforts, and how well the battalion was moving through such a densely wooded area. It felt as though the trees were closing in on the soldiers, forcing the entire unit to walk in a thin file along the trail that was only defined by the cleared trees and marched steadily southwestwards. Rujy was concerned that they may eventually reach a main road or, worse, the huge city to the south he had sighted from the air. Rujy saw the leading section of soldiers stop and crowd around something on the side of the path. He slung his rifle over his back and jogged to the front of the convoy, ignoring Captain Rolan's protests about security. The squad members saluted to him as he came to a halt and looked at what had interested them. It was a sign, in Russian, facing away from the direction the convoy was approaching from. It read: Warning, Dangerous Woods. Do Not Enter. Like seriously, do not enter, you will die immediately. Public safety message courtesy of the Stalliongrad Outer Metropolitan Administration. With a shrug, Rujy motioned for the squad to continue ahead and waited for the rest of the convoy to catch up. He slipped in next to Captain Rolan. "Captain, it would appear we're somewhere near Stalingrad- or a poorly spelled version of it. This is great news! Tonight we'll be sharing our exploits with the Stalingrad garrison over a few shots of Vodka." Captain Rolan shook his head and lowered his voice. "Nyet, Lieutenant Colonel. It doesn't line up. We received no welcome, no radio contact, and we still do not know how we got here. I believe... I believe Stalingrad has fallen." Rujy's blood went cold as he considered this possibility. Considering everything that had happened, it made the most sense. With an equally quiet voice he whispered back, "Do not tell the men. We will keep our distance from Stalingrad and try to regroup with any retreating elements, or camp on the outskirts of the city and wait for an allied counterattack. Although it may be quite a distance away- Stalingrad is far inland, so the coastal city we spotted might be a town under Stalingrad administration rather than the great city itself." The Captain nodded slowly. "...I agree. Let us continue." As the soldiers marched onwards, Rujy quietly hummed an old, sorrowful tune he had heard a long time ago. "Lieutenant Colonel! We've reached the edge of the forest!" Rujy flicked his flashlight on and hurried to the front of the battalion, where weary soldiers were filtering out of the woods, relieved to be in a wide open space again after so many hours; first in the plane and then trekking in the dense woods. A Wolverine- the VDV's main airborne IFV, which was a heavily armed APC- rolled out of the forest. Captain Rolan hopped down from the side along with two other escorts. "Now what, Lieutenant Colonel?" he motioned into the darkness. From the dim light of the moon, they could barely make out the outline of some hills blocking their view a couple of kilometers away. There was a faint, orange glow of electric light just barely visible. To the left and right, and the edge of the forest formed a huge semi-circle. It seemed the only way forward was over the hills, which Rujy relayed to Captain Rolan. He looked around at the battalion, which had finished spilling out of the woods. Some of them had formed a loose defensive perimeter around the battalion, while a squad covered the route they had come from. The rest, however, simply took the time to rest, eat and drink, and converse about what had happened. Rujy didn't want to drag them into the countryside while they were resting. "Alright, here's the plan. I'll take a squad with me to scout that light we can see across the hills, while you and dedushka set up a perimeter on the hills' summits and let the other men rest for a bit. They deserve it." The Captain objected, "It's not safe for you to join the scout group, and they don't require you to lead them anyways; they'd do just as well under their regular squad leader. It would be be-" Rujy raised a hand. "I'm going and that's final. We'll fight our way out if we're ambushed. Rasslablyat'sya- relax, comrade." Captain Rolan didn't press the issue, but wore a small frown on his face. Rujy ignored this and called over a free VDV squad, explaining their task to them. Within a few minutes, the squad was positioned at the crest of the tallest nearby hill. From here they had quite a view. To the north and east, the huge forest almost completely blocked their view, with the huge coniferous trees towering easily towering over the hills. For as far as they could see westwards were mostly flat plains which faded away into the darkness. A small, double storey farmhouse with a few plots of tilled soil sat much closer, just a few minutes' jog and within clear sight of the hills. A single light shone brightly from a window in the ground floor. A small dirt path was barely visible, leading down to the south. Rujy turned his gaze towards the south, following the path into the darkness and- he gasped sharply as he took in the sight beyond that. Set between the vast pitch black of the country and the barely visible glitter of the coast was a huge display of lights; the city they had spotted earlier. It was like an island of light in a sea of darkness, clearly visible even at such a tremendous distance. The inner city was surrounded by a short wall, with what appeared to be factories and warehouses hugging it from the outside, and dense residential commie blocks occupying the interior. From their position, they could see a main road snaking in from the city walls to reach a huge, grand City Hall with Roman-like architecture. The Lieutenant Colonel tore his eyes away from the sight and motioned quietly for the squad to proceed to the nearby house. They instinctively split into two teams curving around the house, one heading for the front and the other for the back. With a grimace, Rujy stepped into the light. If anyone was watching from the house or the surrounding area, they'd now clearly be able to see the Russian squad. The squad had already swept through the tiny ground floor, which seemed to consist only of a lounge and kitchen separated by a single wall, with a flight of wooden stairs leading to the second floor. While the squad took up positions around the stairs and windows, Rujy inspected the kitchen and lounge. Both of the rooms were impeccably neat and tidy, and the kitchen was devoid of any consumables or other items aside from the occasional pots and cutlery in the cupboards, suggesting no one had used either rooms in a while. There were no pictures or really any decorations hanging on the lounge walls aside from a 'Quality Assurance' farming certificate. The furniture was clearly of Russian make, though: further proof they were in Russia. Rujy, unslinging his assault rifle, joined the squad quietly trooping up the stairs. At the top was a dark bedroom, taking up the entire top floor. Two windows faced opposite sides, with shelves and a wardrobe lining the left wall. Directly across from the stairs was a bed with a heavily snoring, clearly asleep figure under a blanket. The squad leader motioned forward and one soldier stepped stealthily towards the bed with a nod. He carefully lifted up the blanket to check who was there, then rushed back. "Sir, there's a... small, weird-looking horse in a coat sleeping there." He said this defensively, as if he expected someone to turn down his statement. The squad leader turned to Rujy expectantly. After a moment's consideration, he came to a decision and withdrew his combat knife. "We don't want it to make noise, and we have no use for it. I'll put it down." Jeez, some people are weird. Who puts a horse in their bed? Creeping over to the bed, Rujy quietly peeked under the covers. Just as the soldier had described, there was the head of a very odd, small horse with soft, round facial features clearly deep asleep. The face was eerily similar to that of a human in that Rujy could tell it was slightly distressed just from its facial expression. It had an unusual deep navy blue coat and bright blue mane, and was male. With only a slight twinge of guilt, the Lieutenant Colonel put the knife under the horse's throat and sliced it cleanly. The horse jerked as blood poured out, and Rujy could almost swear he could see shock and horror in its face, then went limp a few seconds later with another stab to the weak throat artery. Meanwhile, the squad had turned on the single light bulb and scoured the room, checking every wardrobe and shelf. Judging from the lack of personal possessions, it seemed no one was living there. Two squad members tossed the corpse out of the window- much to the surprise of the soldiers holding the ground floor- and headed down. Rujy and the squad leader follow them, leaving only a soldier each stationed at the windows. After some discussion with the squad leader, Rujy headed back to the main battalion with a small escort while the squad got to work hacking down unnecessary furniture and digging rectangular holes outside the house. After all, the horse wasn't the only corpse they had to bury tonight. Rujy insisted on participating in the first watch. To his surprise, Captain Rolan hadn't objected, but had gone to rest along with most of the battalion. The house itself was reserved for the injured and weather-sensitive equipment. They had parked the 34 vehicles in a sort of loose perimeter around the house, allowing the battalion to set up tents and stoves to finally catch up on their sleep and cook some meals. The Lieutenant Colonel sat on the edge of a Grizon, devouring a warm piece of bread with cheese and a lukewarm bottle of coke. The night was pleasantly not too warm and not too cold, although the clouds blotted out the stars and prevented them from seeing more than few a meters out. The heavy lights of the IFVs, APCs, and jeeps, however, cut clear beams into darkness, allowing the defenders to spot any potential enemies as far as the hills around them. Laughing soldiers stood on top of the vehicles with slung rifles chatting about the day's exploits. Rujy was glad that morale was a bit higher, despite the squads just behind them lowering covered bodies into a hurried mass grave. He chewed on a chunk of bread, suddenly feeling drowsy. It seemed he was... a lot more tired out than he'd thought. I'll just... go and find a nice, warm blanket and a chair... or sleep here... The last thing Rujy saw before his vision went dark were black shapes creeping into the light.