[Timmay]

Synopsis: This is based on the life of my grandfather and to do with the battle of Korsun pocket, where he lost his leg to a friendly artillery strike, eventually causing him to go to America. "Keep well wherever you are." P.S. read part 1 and 2 before 3

"Hey there, Beta," said a grinning Anton to Lieutenant Konodesky.

Konodesky scowled. He didn't like getting rescued, especially by a newly made Sergeant. "Keep it in your pants, Sergeant."

"Aww, your just angry. Well, shall we? Lets chase these pricks. Give our other carriers more room to land. Maybe then we could have a survival rate better than 10%."

"Well Sergeant, we do think alike. Let's go!"

Anton turned to his men, all kneeling in a giant crater made by an artillery strike. They all were wondering what the Sarge and Lieutenant were talking about. "Guys, lets get going. Were gunna chase these bastards, corner 'em, and clean 'em. Saddle up! Fire superiority! Fedya! Supressing fire!-

"Right!" said Fedya and started raining hell on the few Tiamats foolish enough to be out of cover.

Everyone, outside of their own will, climbed out of the crater and ran to other cover.

"Anatolli, you have a smoke grenade?"

"What Anton?" shouted Anatolli over the fire of the Sarissa.

"Do you have a smoke grenade?" said Anton as he walked over to Anatolli. "A smoke grenade. A red smoke grenade. Aim it right at them."

Anatolli got the grenade from his belt and pulled the safety pin. Before he could heave it, a Tiamat shot him in the leg. Anton wasn't so afraid of Anatolli's life as much as the grenade dropping on the ground. The peltast-33 smoke grenade had a 3 second fuse after it hit ground. Any gun battery in the area that could see the smoke would be ordered to fire on the area. The batteries were told to fire on the area, then fire on the area again, plus a half-mile circumference. That would sweep up all of the survivors. By the time Anton had warned everyone to run away from the area, the grenade had already gone off, and smoke was pouring out of the grenade. The artillery was already opening fire; Anton could tell by the vibrations from the Earth.

"Run! Get out of here!"

Anton looked back; the Taimats were employing the same strategy. Anton whipped around to see Private Tima firing on the retreating Taimats; everyone else was running away. Tima had hit about 5 of the many (at least 70) withdrawing Tiamats.

"Let's go, Tima! Let's get the fuck outta here! Tima?"

Tima wasn't even moving. He was just firing at his enemy.

"Tima! Artillery! Incoming!" Tima only shifted his position to fire on the Taimats. He had hit about 10 now. Oddly, the Taimats were advancing now, even though the artillery would crush them.

"Shit, they don't wanna lose their foothold...Tima, we gotta go, and everyone else is gone!"

It was to late. The artillery had already hit. It hit a good deal of the advancing foe, about 35 of them. The rest ducked for cover, probably praying to live. After the artillery, the Taimats would just rush back into this sector, and the Soviets would have to do the same thing over again, taking the landing defence line to secure saver landings. Anton's sacrifice, corporally and spiritually, watching his friends die, that is, would be useless.

Anton and Tima were both flung into the air by the artillery. Friendly fire. Anton would have gladly beaten the shit out of the guy who created that alliteration. He was truly amazed that little pieces of metal shot from a cannon could lift two fully-grown men 20 feet into the air like volleyball.

The artillery stopped, and Anton hit the ground with a hard thud. His combat suit would do its best to keep any bones from breaking, but he still felt the pain of the fall. He could here Tiamat troops in the distance getting out of cover, discussing whether to retake the area, or to just concede it and fall back and defend more zones in the city.

Even though he fell 20 feet, Anton actually felt pretty good, and was in no pain at all. The suit must have done a good job. Still, protocol was protocol, and he had to follow it. Anton lifted his arm to his helmet, and keyed in the order to check if the suit was ruptured or destroyed. The helmet would scan down the suit and check for anything that was missing. Anton looked through the visor. The scan started from the torso down, and so far everything was fine. It was when the scan reached the left leg did a problem arise. It said it could scan no further, because the suits leg was missing. Well, that couldn't be right. Anton was still on his back, and he hadn't looked at his body, but he would know if he was missing a leg.

Lifting up his left arm, Anton tried feeling his leg. What he felt was a wet spot and dirt, but no solid flesh at all. Anton shot into panic mode. Where was his leg? He couldn't be missing a leg. No. That wasn't possible. Anton shook his head; He felt to good. A little nagging voice in his mind was telling him the suit was right and he was missing his leg. His pessimistic voice. Anton always tried to be a bit of an optimist. Nothing stupid, mind you, just a little optimism never hurt. The problem was his pessimistic voice was usually right.

Anton lifted his head and looked at his leg, or what was left, which wasn't much. The bleeding stump that remained looked nothing like his old leg. Anton had too much. He passed out.


"...This medal of Hero of the Soviet Union is awarded to Sergeant Anton Ignatovich Leonov of the 4th Guards Sapper Division for outstanding prowess on the battlefield, expert leadership ability, and the surrounding and destruction of an entire enemy platoon, knowing full well the risk of his actions. His capability in battle lead to the saving of another company and assisted greatly the capturing of Tver itself. To this, we award him the Hero of the Soviet Union."

Anton opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a stark white room in a comfy bed, what he guessed was a hospital. General Tvominov was sitting on a chair next to the comfy bed. The General looked over to him smiling. Anton couldn't help but grinning back.

"Congratulations Sergeant. You earned this," said the General as he pinned a tiny gold and red star onto Anton's chest.

Anton's pride was washed away by a thought that crossed his mind. "Sir, in the city, civilians were there."

The General, who was all smiles a second ago, became stone-faced. "No, nonsense. They were all evacuated."

Anton could tell he was lying. His eyes were jumping all around, not looking at the newest Hero of the Soviet Union. "I know what I saw, Sir, and I saw a family of four just hiding in the building I used to take out and enemy machinegun."

The General finally looked at Anton, and everything fell into place. "There weren't any ships sent to evacuate civilians. You never cared. Civilians don't mean anything to you. They never did. You just want to win this god awful war."

The General stared at Anton for a while, and then nodded. Millions of questions rushed into Anton's brain. Is winning as important as saving the people you're fighting for? Do you squander your soldiers on a city like Tver just to be obstinate? One question stood out though.

"Sir, how much longer will we be fighting for a giant graveyard?"

The General got up and walked towards the door. "Anton, we fight until one of us die."

[Timmay]

should i rename this bact to my old shitty title so people know what it is?

[Lubesh]

If the other titles r different,it would be handy.

[Timmay]

Originally Posted by Lubesh

If the other titles r different,it would be handy.

Ok. makes sence

[Timmay]

wait a sec. how do i change it? i pressed edit! oh no!