I write classic "good vs evil" creative writing pieces with smart twists inspired by vintage action cinema, gaming, and heavy metal.
December 18th, 1942, Southern Front. The German war machine's Unternehmen Wintergewitter (Operation Winterstorm) offensives were stopped by the Soviet 6th Mechanised Corps (assigned to the 2nd Guards Army) however, the offensive was not yet over as the Wehrmacht had something else - we were in way over our heads!
My PPSh-41 submachine gun in hand, I looked in horror as what looked like giant lizards with Wehrmacht markings mauled a T-34 tank while taking small arms and anti-tank rifle fire that would make an Opel Blitz truck explode. There were a lot more of such war animals on the field accompanied by insect-like creatures, screeching and squeaking while overwhelming our men; stabbing them to death with their pincers. Those creatures took orders from the Germans but how?! What pact did Hitler sign for this kind of recruits?! I survived Talvisota and many more engagements before and yet, I am still scared to death however, I was not planning on dying or surrendering anytime soon. Moscow is behind us and I still had plenty of ammo along with the words of my sergeant; "Pain is temporary but victory is for life!"
The Germans were deathly afraid of our "HURRAH" charge when our cavalry units and infantry rushed their tanks and gun emplacements without fear but since I am pretty much the last of the 6th Mechanised, I have to fight a lot harder while outsmarting the war animals. No backup is arriving, no artillery fire is available and definitely no evacuation or a way to escape, I pondered while gathering PPSh-41 drum magazines and picking up a DP-28 light machine gun.
While no one admitted to believing in God or any other higher power within the Soviet cities, there are no atheists on the battlefield; I saw many a soldier, tanker and sailor genuflect and whisper prayers. We even had an artillery commander who genuflected between firing rounds. I remembered all those times as I gripped my wooden cross with my free hand, reciting Otche Nash (RUS: Отче Наш) (Our Fathers) as my grandmother did after saying her last farewell to me as I walked out of our village house; marching to defend the motherland. Genuflecting and hiding the wooden cross under my uniform, I gripped the machine gun with both hands and scanned the immediate area for any enemy unfortunate enough to still be here. While there was no sign of conventional Wehrmacht forces, there was plenty of those things - devouring everything like locusts. Taking aim, I let loose the fury of my DP-28.
"Screeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!" a choir of those insect-like things answered in pain as large rounds ripped them apart, this brought me so much pleasure that I began to smile as I walked forward; attacking them with the most offensive words I could muster; the 3-Storeys of Cursing as its commonly known. Those insects are too stupid for tactics since all they tried to do is overwhelm me with what looked like thousands of them; all knocked down by my firepower.
"CLICK!" the DP-28 suddenly said, letting me know I was out of ammo. One thing about Soviet firearms is that they were very hardened, many times I saw troopers use them as melee weapons upon running out of ammo. My friend Sergei, before stopping a sniper round with his chest, used a Mosin-Nagant rifle to beat a German flame trooper to death. Even as he was dying, he forced a smile and joked about everything around us.
My other friend Vasili, a large, muscular village tough guy used a PPSh-41 to beat back 3 German Falschirmjagers (Airborne soldiers) who tried to capture the three of us as we tried to carry Sergei to safety. Gripping the barrel with both my hands, my DP-28 became a large bat that broke through the endoskeletons of those things. Eventually, the bigger ones joined the fight since I pushed back towards their lines; I didn't even notice driving the gun into the head of a large humanoid. Slamming it repeatedly into him as he clawed at my face. He didn't expect a normal human to knock him down!
Otche Nash prayer
Falling back to my submachine gun, I was in an enemy trench now and I expect to face some Germans here meaning, more guns for me to use. My fear disappeared as the brutal Soviet training started to show itself as I was able to hit these things harder. Another humanoid showed up and catching me by surprise, he knocked my gun from my hands; only for me to start punching holes in his head and knocking out his sharp fangs.
Finishing him off with my trench shovel. Months of training in the steppes and mountains of Kazakhstan makes a man harder. Getting my gun back, I was back on the hunt for Germany's otherworldly allies. The tank-destroying lizards were now in my sights, their large green eyes blaring with hate and determination to complete their objective; running at them, I concentrated fire on their eyes. PPSh-41 fired fast and had plenty of ammo so blinding them was easy. Thrashing about in disarray and giving me a chance to ready my grenades; those we used on tanks. Throwing it right at their faces, I immediately took cover and fired off some more bursts at the incoming horde.
"You got to be joking!" I thought to myself, "ARMORED COCKROACHES?!"
This was basically the horde coming to rip me apart; giant cockroach-like insects wearing sheet metal armor with Wehrmacht markings and swastikas. Each one the size of a young horse, their feelers moved around aggressively as they approached. Not even panzers made this much noise in their advances.
I had to think fast so I jumped back into the trench and luckily, I found a canister of petrol next to a German motorcycle; could be a frontline messenger. I could drench the cockroaches in petrol and my fire would ignite them. Running back out and towards them, they were close enough to hit with a submachine gun; opening the lid, I pitched the can at them. As predicted, petrol leaked out; my cue to let rip. A burst later and fire was already burning; cooking them inside their sheet metal armor. Bugs big or small hate fire for a reason; it kills them easily.
Reloading my gun, I continued to fire at the few cockroaches rushing me, aiming for their un-armored heads; endoskeletons won't stop hot lead in a continued fire. A few of them were either burning to death, gunned down or crippled. Unfortunately, I was out of ammo and the trench was far away now; now it's up to my trench shovel.
Slinging my carry-gun on my shoulder, I gripped my shovel with both hands and rushed towards the closest enemy; a part of me predicted death and no other ends to the fight. Time stood still as I slammed the business end of my shovel into the bug's head; continuing to strike as if I was digging potatoes back home. At this point, I was fighting automatically, as if God wanted me to survive this as if my shovel had a mind of its own - seeking out weak points of the abominations surrounding me.
Lizards, bugs, humanoids; all had me in a circle and attacking me simultaneously with cockroaches running around to prevent my escape. Suddenly, I realised my shovel was gone now as I observed it's blade protruding from a humanoid's head. As always, the last stand would be with a sidearm, unholstering my TT-33 pistol and there are 8 rounds here, let's see if that is enough.
© 2019 Jake Clawson