Back on the march

Our orders are in. Dadonov says that this is going to be a long mission, and that we will be out for at least a few days. The mission is a small railroad bridge. Our job is to blow it to hell, and make sure that no supplies can make it across.

“It’s an ear flaps down kind of day.” Artyom says to me quietly as we crunch through the falling snow. I can see his breath.

“Coldest day this year.” I remark, a puff of steam coming out of my own mouth. I carry my rifle with gloved hands, and move my eyes through the bare trees to our right. It is cold, but I’m just happy Fedorov is nowhere to be seen. It must be so sad for him, having to beat his pathetic little dick all by himself. I liked the one I felt last night a lot better.

We’ve been moving for a good part of the day already, and Dadonov stops us in a thick patch of woods for a quick break. Everybody takes the chance to have a drink and catch their breath. I sit against a tree, knees up, my rifle in my lap. Artyom stretches nearby.

Dadonov comes over and takes a knee next to me. “We should be in luck tonight.”

“Why is that?” I ask him.

“By the time we stop, we should be near a good friend of our unit’s.” He explains. “As long as they’re still there, we’ll have a roof over our heads.”