overhead.
According to the legends of the British Army, no enemy relished fighting these wiry hill men from Nepal, and, to a man, they were keen to get to close quarters with the new foe to put their martial skills to the test against a strong and cunning enemy.
The Sirmoor Rifles, also known as the 1st/2nd [King Edward VII’s Own] Gurkha Rifles, waited in anticipation of the battle to come.
Allied forces – 1st/2nd [King Edward VII’s Own] Gurkha Rifles, and 2nd Platoon of ‘A’ Company of 6th Rajputana MG Battalion, both of 7th Indian Infantry Brigade, 3rd Royal Horse Artillery, and 11th Field Regiment, Royal Artillery, all of 4th Indian Division, directly attached to US 12th Army Group.
Soviet Forces – 3rd Battalion of 22nd Guards Cavalry Regiment of 5th Guards Cavalry Division, and 2nd Company, 1814th Self-Propelled Gun Regiment, and Special Group Orlov, 7th Guards Horse Artillery Regiment, all of 3rd Guards Cavalry Corps, 5th Guards Tank Army, 3rd Red Banner Central European Front.
“Are you fucking kidding, Comrade Kapitan?”
“No, I am not , Comrade Serzhant, and what’s more, we go in fifteen minutes because staff already fucked it up once.”
The old Cossack shook his head.
“They are fucking it up again then, Comrade Kapitan.”
He pointed in the direction of advance, emphasising his words.
“Those boys down there are proper infantry, with machine guns. They want us to charge them? Mudaks!”
“Calm yourself, Kazakov. A pparently this is not your first action.”
“That is why I question this order , Comrade Kapitan. It’s total fucking lunacy!”
Captain Babaev moved like a striking snake, the flat of his hand wiping itself loudly across the older man’s face.
“You shut your mouth, Serzhant, or I will shoot you myself!”
All around, t he younger Cossacks froze at the sound of flesh striking flesh, their eyes drawn to the growing red weal on Kazakov’s cheek, the ferocity of the blow becoming more apparent with the darkening of the skin.
Kazakov froze, controlling his breathing, his mind racing.
Babaev looked at him with unconcealed contempt.
“You boast constantly of the action you have seen and the men you have killed, and yet all I hear from you is whining about being sent to fight.”
The officer cleared his throat, intent on completing the NCO’s humiliation.
“I say enough of it , Kazakov! I demote you to Private immediately, and you will lead the attack!”
To the watchers , it seemed that a strange peace settled on Kazakov. The few that really knew the man understood that a white fury was consuming the ‘former’ sergeant.
Finishing the job, Babaev summoned one of the observers to him.
“Comrade Levadniy, you are now Serzhant. Don’t let us down.”
“Thank you , Comrade Kapitan.”
The new sergeant saluted respectfully, avoiding the burning eyes of the previous incumbent, slipping quickly away to find some rank markings.
Kapitan Babaev poked his finger into Kazakov’s right breast, hard enough to cause the man to sway under the blow. His finger flicked up at the medal that was the pride and joy of the man he had come to despise.
“The Order of the Red Star, for which I have been unable to find any proof of entitlement I might add!”
Kazakov’s eyes moved upwards, making the eye contact that he had been trying hard to avoid.
“The divisional records are meticulous, except when it comes to you it seems.”
Kazakov exhaled slowly in an effort to control himself.
“I wanted to strip you of it, but the Colonel prevented it.”
The former Sergeant’s eyes blazed openly, his fury feeding on the officer’s words.
“So we have agreed to give you the chance to earn it. That is why you are leading the attack.”
Stepping half a pace closer, Babaev leaned his head forward so that the distance between their faces was the length of a cigarette.
“And you fuck up in any way, any way at all Kazakov, and I will shoot you down like the
According to the legends of the British Army, no enemy relished fighting these wiry hill men from Nepal, and, to a man, they were keen to get to close quarters with the new foe to put their martial skills to the test against a strong and cunning enemy.
The Sirmoor Rifles, also known as the 1st/2nd [King Edward VII’s Own] Gurkha Rifles, waited in anticipation of the battle to come.
Allied forces – 1st/2nd [King Edward VII’s Own] Gurkha Rifles, and 2nd Platoon of ‘A’ Company of 6th Rajputana MG Battalion, both of 7th Indian Infantry Brigade, 3rd Royal Horse Artillery, and 11th Field Regiment, Royal Artillery, all of 4th Indian Division, directly attached to US 12th Army Group.
Soviet Forces – 3rd Battalion of 22nd Guards Cavalry Regiment of 5th Guards Cavalry Division, and 2nd Company, 1814th Self-Propelled Gun Regiment, and Special Group Orlov, 7th Guards Horse Artillery Regiment, all of 3rd Guards Cavalry Corps, 5th Guards Tank Army, 3rd Red Banner Central European Front.
“Are you fucking kidding, Comrade Kapitan?”
“No, I am not , Comrade Serzhant, and what’s more, we go in fifteen minutes because staff already fucked it up once.”
The old Cossack shook his head.
“They are fucking it up again then, Comrade Kapitan.”
He pointed in the direction of advance, emphasising his words.
“Those boys down there are proper infantry, with machine guns. They want us to charge them? Mudaks!”
“Calm yourself, Kazakov. A pparently this is not your first action.”
“That is why I question this order , Comrade Kapitan. It’s total fucking lunacy!”
Captain Babaev moved like a striking snake, the flat of his hand wiping itself loudly across the older man’s face.
“You shut your mouth, Serzhant, or I will shoot you myself!”
All around, t he younger Cossacks froze at the sound of flesh striking flesh, their eyes drawn to the growing red weal on Kazakov’s cheek, the ferocity of the blow becoming more apparent with the darkening of the skin.
Kazakov froze, controlling his breathing, his mind racing.
Babaev looked at him with unconcealed contempt.
“You boast constantly of the action you have seen and the men you have killed, and yet all I hear from you is whining about being sent to fight.”
The officer cleared his throat, intent on completing the NCO’s humiliation.
“I say enough of it , Kazakov! I demote you to Private immediately, and you will lead the attack!”
To the watchers , it seemed that a strange peace settled on Kazakov. The few that really knew the man understood that a white fury was consuming the ‘former’ sergeant.
Finishing the job, Babaev summoned one of the observers to him.
“Comrade Levadniy, you are now Serzhant. Don’t let us down.”
“Thank you , Comrade Kapitan.”
The new sergeant saluted respectfully, avoiding the burning eyes of the previous incumbent, slipping quickly away to find some rank markings.
Kapitan Babaev poked his finger into Kazakov’s right breast, hard enough to cause the man to sway under the blow. His finger flicked up at the medal that was the pride and joy of the man he had come to despise.
“The Order of the Red Star, for which I have been unable to find any proof of entitlement I might add!”
Kazakov’s eyes moved upwards, making the eye contact that he had been trying hard to avoid.
“The divisional records are meticulous, except when it comes to you it seems.”
Kazakov exhaled slowly in an effort to control himself.
“I wanted to strip you of it, but the Colonel prevented it.”
The former Sergeant’s eyes blazed openly, his fury feeding on the officer’s words.
“So we have agreed to give you the chance to earn it. That is why you are leading the attack.”
Stepping half a pace closer, Babaev leaned his head forward so that the distance between their faces was the length of a cigarette.
“And you fuck up in any way, any way at all Kazakov, and I will shoot you down like the
Similar Books
Defy the World Tomatoes
Phoebe Conn
22 Dead Little Bodies
Stuart MacBride
Amongst the Dead
David Bernstein
A Very Special Delivery
Linda Goodnight
In an Instant
Adrienne Torrisi
Secrets of a Scandalous Bride
Sophia Nash
Insatiable Desire
Rita Herron
Madly and Wolfhardt
M. Leighton
On Folly Beach
Karen White