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Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Kursk, Eastern Europe,1943.

Even though I'm trying to crank out five works this month, I decided to fall back to a story I started back in 2006 when I was taking care of my dad. The story is going to center around a battle not many of us ever studied or heard about. The battle allowed the D-Day invasion to be success as the back of the elite Panzer Corps never left the fields of the Ukraine. Despite destroying over 600 Russian tanks, the invaders lost 150 tanks and crewmen who couldn't be replaced. As Midway was a turning point in the Pacific Theatre, so was the battle of Kursk. This is what I've written so far:

Ukraine 1943
Irina woke to another day of misery. She’d not heard from her son or husband since they’d been conscripted by Stalin. There was no time for tears or remembrances of happier times. What mattered was survival.
Her once pristine garden, which would feed her and three other families, was now only a small patch of trodden soil. The Reds attempted to destroy the majority of it as the Germans were approaching. They said it was to protect the Motherland from the invaders. They said, taking her men was for the defense of the Motherland. They said she could make due with what was left. It was for the best.
A patch of soil, two meters by two meters was all they’d left fertile. The main planting area, forty by forty meters had been doused with fuel in an effort to ensure the invaders would not benefit from the bountiful harvests in the spring.
When the Germans arrived, they took what few grains of wheat had sprouted from the damaged soil, then pissed and defecated on the few potatoes that were struggling to grow.
She did her best to defy and thwart the efforts of the new occupiers from destroying what the Reds hadn’t. Her defiant behavior led to her being beaten and raped, all in the name of a new glorious empire.

Final Act
She looked out at the blackened landscape. For three days she dared not venture out as the Germans and Russians battled around the town. The sounds of the battle rang in her head as she stepped out to view the carnage: burning tanks and lifeless, battered, broken bodies dotted the once lush landscape. The smell of burnt flesh stung her nose.
She walked amongst the dead as if strolling through the cities once vibrant market. The sight of mutilated bodies didn’t faze her. She’d butchered her share of animals in fifty years. Yes, they were humans, but not in her mind. It mattered not what uniform they wore or whose side they claimed to be supporting. What mattered was surviving the awful conflagration.
With a few more steps she came across a mutilated body with an intact knapsack. She unfastened the clasp and reached inside. Her lifeless eyes and devoid look began changing. She prayed her hand was deceiving her as she removed a hidden prize—bread!

All thoughts and comments are appreciated.

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