Return with the intelligence we collected

I don’t say very much as we make our way back. My sadness has turned into anger and hatred.

“Look, I’m really sorry about your father.” Dadonov says from beside me.

“Don’t be. You’re not the one who did it.” I growl. “I can’t wait for my next chance to kill a fascist.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“No. I mean it. I can’t wait. Actually, I hope that I can get two again next time. Maybe even three.”

“You have to remember who we’re up against.” He explains. “The best trained and best equipped army in the world, and we’re in their territory.”

“No.” I growl. “They’re in our territory. It’s been too long since I’ve had my last kill.”

“That sounds like something a psychopath would say. I only do this because I have to.”

“And I don’t?”

“You did volunteer for this.”

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Our conversation ends. I turn my focus back to the scenery. We arrive late in the evening. Of course Fedorov makes me pleasure him, which I do begrudgingly. I leave his office to join the others, and spend the rest of the night sleeping. I’m able to, now that the shock has worn off and I’m left completely drained.

The extra morning I’m shaken awake for our squad to be posted again. I stand guard with Tarasenko this time. It’s uneventful.

In the evening, since we’ve returned, everyone mills around, talks or simply does nothing. Dadonov enters carrying a wooden crate against his chest, and sets it down. The top is open, and I see ammunition and grenades piled inside.

“How many rounds of ammunition do you have?” He asks me.

“30.” I answer. “No, 35.”

He reaches into the crate and pulls another four five-round stripper clips out in a pile and hands them to me. I take them from him.

“What’s this for?”

“For your rifle.” He says, then pulls a grenade from the box, a captured German one. I can tell by the shape. He hands it to me. I was shown how to use them, but was never actually given any. I always figured it was because of our limited supplies.

“Grenades?” I ask.

“Our orders are in.” He explains. “We leave tomorrow, and we are all being issued extra ammunition and grenades.”

He looks into my eyes. “Looks like you’re going to get your wish.”

“What is the mission?” Somebody asks.

“They like to keep us in the dark, for some reason.” Dadonov answers, turning his attention to the next and reaching back into the crate.

Despite the air of uncertainty about us, everybody crowds around, excited to receive such goodies. The box is quickly picked clean, and Dadonov leaves us.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I ask Artyom.

“Extra ammunition can only mean one thing, and I don’t like it.” He explains. “There’s a fight coming.”