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Stalingrad (1942)

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I was freezing, wet, exhausted and red-eyed at dawn. My comrades had lost their lives around me in the front line of mud, blood, and snow. My gun was pointed towards the German front. I was firing blindly. Where I was told to, when I was told to. Dodging the ceaseless barrage of LMG fire directed my way. . My commanding officer told my comrades and me to get ready to charge. It was the order of my unwilling suicide... "CHARGE!" I heard my commander scream with terror in his lungs. I did as I was told... we all did. I climbed out of the trench of mud and wood, screaming with an energy I didn't know I had. The first few steps I took were painted in a crimson mist. Pawns of war fell, and I was deafened by the screams and gunfire of my comrades. I ran faster than I thought I could, past my fallen comrades and barbed wire. While running, I tripped over a body. I fell on my head and fell unconscious.

I awakened to silence, finding it hard to breathe, suffocated almost, as if a heavy weight was pressing down on my body. Panic gripped me as I struggled to scream for help, but my constricted throat barely allowed a whimper to escape. I crawled out of the corpse pile I was at the edge of. I saw the silhouette of a man kneeling with his gun to his chin, "wait!" I screamed, BANG.

My stomach twisted and turned. I clutched my stomach and threw up. I looked down and realized I had thrown up in the face of a comrade. I fell on my back. I could tell how much time had passed. The sky showed me beautiful stars, starkly contrasted by the carnage I woke up in.

I heard nothing. Not a shout. Nor a whisper. Not a scream. Nor a cry. Just my panicked breathing. I felt as though I was walking through a graveyard of silence. I picked up my gun and slowly advanced toward the German line. My footsteps echoed through eerie silence.

"Artyom... Artyom... Artyom..." I heard in my ears. It was no more than a whisper, but it felt so loud, vibrating through my head down to my feet.

"Who's there?!" I shouted, stopping dead in my tracks. No reply. The whisper continued, "Artyom... Artyom, you left us to die" mumbels turned into a loud whimper. I frantically turned around, trying to find the source of the sound. It grew louder, now continuous, "ARTYOM… PAY YOUR DEBT… JOIN US!" It shrieked in a deep sorrowful voice.

I heard something move behind me. I spun around. A decapitated cadaver stood loomed before me. His uniform was drenched in mud and blood. He raised his hand only his index finger remaining, more a stump of flesh resembling a hand. He pointed behind me.

I turned around. As I did, the snow on the ground shifted,to my horror, hundreds of lifeless bodies emerged, all standing upright. Then simultaneously, they pointed behind me.

The headless corpse was mere inches from my face, and in its outstretched palm, a pistol gleamed in the moonlight. Without hesitation, I took hold of the firearm, and as if on cue, the cadavers collapsed back to the ground. "I'm sorry, comrades. I will make it up to you." I clutched the pistol, knelt on my knees, felt cold steel under my chin, and cocked it, "I will see you soon, comrades.

The sharp gunshot echoed across the battlefield. But there was none left to hear it. Only the ghosts of my fallen comrades remained, watching as I paid my debt and joined them in death. 

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