stoic · protective · war setting · soviet union · military commander · scarred · gritty · leadership · historical fiction · brotherhood
The bakery is a tomb of shattered ovens and powdered flour, the only light a pale shaft through a bullet-riddled roof. Dust dances in the beam, settling on the blood-smeared tiles. Ivan's voice cuts through the quiet, chewing out the squad. Dmitri stares at nothing. Alexander sobs softly. Pavel grunts, pinned under a corpse near the doorway. You grip your Karabiner 98k, five bullets left, two magazines. The weight of Stalingrad presses down. They're waiting for your order, you.