Bloody Citadel by Andrew McGregor

Author:Andrew McGregor [McGregor, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-03-16T04:00:00+00:00

Oleg stiffened as they neared a track, the land rising to the thoroughfare that ran north to south, the ground hardened after three days without rain, his heart rate beginning to quicken as he recalled in dread that this route was used regularly by German forces during the day. Beyond the track lay several barren fields bordered with rough undergrowth, the land rising gradually towards a forest that spanned two low hills, his eyes widening in recollection as he realised that Pavel and himself had escaped from that very forest nearly three months earlier in the bitter frost and falling snow. His memory became suddenly vivid, recalling that they had stumbled into and killed two fascists, one assisting his wounded countryman, their bayonets cutting the lives from the surprised Germans.

He shook his head as his boots slipped into a small depression, his mind now filled with uncertainty and guilt at killing the soldiers in their youthful fear and terror of being captured, neither of which had attempted to fight, both sets of two soldiers simply surprised by the others…that they had acted quicker and in adrenalin fuelled panic as each of the opposing men eyed the other briefly.

Oleg’s eyes strained in distain as he recalled one begging to be set free after Pavel killed the first, unable to understand the young man’s strange un-German like words as he instinctively lunged forward without thinking, stabbing him deeply in the chest and feeling the life slowly slip from the trembling and groaning body as he held his victim tightly then immediately in ultimate regret, tears in his eyes. A brief shudder and strange and almost musical words he had not heard before followed as the man passed, the soldier wheezing as if in deep final prayer, ‘Mama…both your sons can now never return. We are sorry for the pain we have caused you…these men know not what they do, may god forgive us all…’

He vowed they would completely avoid the spot where it happened, despondent remorse filling his chest as he struggled to push the grim thoughts and memories from his mind.

His hand waved to indicate for the men to duck down, their bodies slipping into the low depression before a ram-shackled wooden fence, Pavel biting his lower lip as he considered the loving farmer’s wife, recalling the way she would pinch his cheek playfully and kiss his forehead as though he was her own son. The robust woman would always hug him tightly to her breasts, whispering that he was her favourite, Oleg grinning as his young friend blushed. Then she would push him gently to sit by the fire for warmth, ladling warm soup or stew generously into an old chipped bowl for his consumption, standing back and scrutinising his response to the flavour and offering before feeding the others.

Guilt seemed to fill his mind, that the gunshots had meant the farmer and his family’s deaths, Pavel only thinking about food, his eyes straining as he scolded himself mentally, a regretful nausea twisting in his empty stomach as Oleg turned to him.

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