STALINGRAD
a short, made-up story inspired by the battle of Stalingrad in 1942.
“Wake up, soldiers. Germans are coming.” was all I could make out of Lieutenant as he banged on the wooden door to my platoon’s room. The massive bombing happened two days ago, on August 23, 1942, right after dinner. My eyes were still blurry. My vision was vivid. Same as the young comrades, I was terrified. It’s the war.
Together with Barry, we took cover in a civilian’s house. That’s where we met Boris, a young fellow desolated in the dirt and crumbles of the demolished city. “Boris Kryzhanovsky,” he said with a trembling voice. “Barry Kuznetsov,” smiled Barry, “splendid to meet you, comrade.” I giggled. A couple of seconds went by, next thing I knew was Barry lying on the floor, screaming in excruciating pain. On his shoulder, there was blood. On his face, there were tears. Stray bullets, I thought to myself, not figuring anything out at the time. He gave me the gaze. The look of a young man, full of hopes and dreams. Of a hopeless, dying soldier. Of an innocent soul trying to escape the cruel reality. On August 25, 1942, Barry Kuznetsov took his last breath in my arm. He was more than a fellow soldier. He was a comrade, a brother. Wish I could say one last farewell to the poor man. All I felt, was coldness in the heat of war.
Japan surrendered to the United States after its flawless victory, ending the war once and for all. The tension is rising again between the US and our motherland. But for now, I want to take a moment in memoriam of Barry Serafimovich Kuznetsov, a brave comrade who gave it his best fighting for liberty. In the silent, gloomy atmosphere of the funeral, I stood to the side next to his grave. “We did it, Barry. We did it, brother.” I promised, “one day we’ll meet again. Live on forever.”
-in memoriam: souls of World War II-
