Comrade Stalin Revolution
“Comrades! We have pushed back the Fascists from the outskirts of Moscow,” Commissar Petronov said. The wailing sound of Katyusha rockets blazed from behind, “you see, my friends? We have destroyed the enemy’s spirits,” sounds of screaming came from the ashes of smoke that laid ahead, “and now, we destroy their lives! Onwards, to Berlin!”
“URRRAAA!” I screamed, drowned in the sounds of others. The smoke slowly dissipated. The sound of a whistle pierced the explosions. For I, Dimitri, of the 28th Army, shall liberate Stalingrad from the grasps of the Nazi Invaders.
Our teacher would always tell us about Comrade Stalin’s peril to spread revolution across the world. We’d sing songs about heroes. But, we’d always be warned of the consequences
of betraying the Motherland. I, a young pioneer, would heed the red badge everywhere I went. There was a day I’d always remember. We, my momma, two brothers, and my father, were all in our cramped apartment. We were singing songs of the country, laughing, and even dancing. Then, came a large thumping sound on the door. I ran down the small hallway and towards the entrance. I opened a little cap and peered down the glass seeker. The small, metallic cap, felt cold in my hand. Two men in olive green suits stoody at the patio. They both wore a stunning green hat, and an epaulettes showing off their ranks. A black car was outside, sun shining off its silver-like lenses. I slowly opened the door, and saluted them. Their face showed no signs of expression, hardened and stern like a rock. “Little boy, call your father here,” one of them said, his voice so deep that I barely understood him, “We need to have a little…” “Chit-chat,” the other said, his lips slowly turning into a grin; a forced one. I called out to my father and he came out. He stared into the mens’ eyes, and let out a deep breath. White smoke cristallized in the air. “We’re going to have to take him for a,” he looked at the other man, “walk.” My father proceeded to step out into the blizzard, and closed the door. I turned around and saw his jacket, wooly and furry, still left on the stand. This must’ve been a mistake, I’d tell myself, Comrade Stalin would sort this out soon
We charged into the ashes, bayonets facing forward. A hail of machinegun fire blazed from ahead. With no cover insight, we kept on moving, My legs firmly jumped off the debris of the remnants of the city. My comrades, left and right, fell backwards. I closed my eyes and kept on dashing. Soon, I quickly found hardcover. Bare stone scattered in a pile on the ground. It was still warm. I dove towards it and ducked my head down. I looked around, and saw madness. The Volga River, from where we attacked from, turned into a sea of red. Soldiers laid on the ground, some still screaming for help. I shook my head and closed my eyes. Suddenly, a siren came from above. “Stuka!” Screamed a soldier, “Incoming air attack!” The whistles attached to the bomber wailed as it dove towards us. On its underside, I saw rounded, black tubes connected to the aircraft. It soon detached, freefalling towards the Earth. An awesome blossoming of fire shot out from the rubble. It threw up the dirt around it as if it was the wind blowing on Autumn leaves. Then, the dirt came down. It rained below, onto the charging soldiers. There was a small squad pinned
“URRRAAA!” I screamed, drowned in the sounds of others. The smoke slowly dissipated. The sound of a whistle pierced the explosions. For I, Dimitri, of the 28th Army, shall liberate Stalingrad from the grasps of the Nazi Invaders.
Our teacher would always tell us about Comrade Stalin’s peril to spread revolution across the world. We’d sing songs about heroes. But, we’d always be warned of the consequences
of betraying the Motherland. I, a young pioneer, would heed the red badge everywhere I went. There was a day I’d always remember. We, my momma, two brothers, and my father, were all in our cramped apartment. We were singing songs of the country, laughing, and even dancing. Then, came a large thumping sound on the door. I ran down the small hallway and towards the entrance. I opened a little cap and peered down the glass seeker. The small, metallic cap, felt cold in my hand. Two men in olive green suits stoody at the patio. They both wore a stunning green hat, and an epaulettes showing off their ranks. A black car was outside, sun shining off its silver-like lenses. I slowly opened the door, and saluted them. Their face showed no signs of expression, hardened and stern like a rock. “Little boy, call your father here,” one of them said, his voice so deep that I barely understood him, “We need to have a little…” “Chit-chat,” the other said, his lips slowly turning into a grin; a forced one. I called out to my father and he came out. He stared into the mens’ eyes, and let out a deep breath. White smoke cristallized in the air. “We’re going to have to take him for a,” he looked at the other man, “walk.” My father proceeded to step out into the blizzard, and closed the door. I turned around and saw his jacket, wooly and furry, still left on the stand. This must’ve been a mistake, I’d tell myself, Comrade Stalin would sort this out soon
We charged into the ashes, bayonets facing forward. A hail of machinegun fire blazed from ahead. With no cover insight, we kept on moving, My legs firmly jumped off the debris of the remnants of the city. My comrades, left and right, fell backwards. I closed my eyes and kept on dashing. Soon, I quickly found hardcover. Bare stone scattered in a pile on the ground. It was still warm. I dove towards it and ducked my head down. I looked around, and saw madness. The Volga River, from where we attacked from, turned into a sea of red. Soldiers laid on the ground, some still screaming for help. I shook my head and closed my eyes. Suddenly, a siren came from above. “Stuka!” Screamed a soldier, “Incoming air attack!” The whistles attached to the bomber wailed as it dove towards us. On its underside, I saw rounded, black tubes connected to the aircraft. It soon detached, freefalling towards the Earth. An awesome blossoming of fire shot out from the rubble. It threw up the dirt around it as if it was the wind blowing on Autumn leaves. Then, the dirt came down. It rained below, onto the charging soldiers. There was a small squad pinned