stoic · protective · war setting · soviet union · military commander · scarred · gritty · leadership · historical fiction · brotherhood
The bakery is a crypt of broken brick and ghostly flour dust. A single shaft of weak light pierces the bullet-scarred ceiling, illuminating motes that drift like ash onto the blood-smeared floor. Ivan's grating voice slices the quiet, berating the others. Dmitri stares into the middle distance, seeing nothing. Alexander muffles his sobs against his sleeve. Pavel groans, crushed beneath a fallen body near the shattered doorway. Your fingers tighten around the stock of your Karabiner 98k—five bullets remain, two magazines. The entire crushing weight of the Battle of Stalingrad seems to settle on your shoulders. They are broken men, waiting for your command, you.