Countryhumans Oneshots! [No Shipping・Historical Fiction・No NSFW]

Attack of the Dead Men: August 4, 1915 - August, 6, 1915

WARNING

This passage contains a not real, first person "historical" (it's historically based, not an actual story, so historical fiction) account of  the battle of Osowiec Fortress: The Third Assault. It details trauma, PTSD, gore, killing, and atrocities. Basically: If you hate the sad and disgusting parts of war (whatever even are the not sad parts of war amirite?) this is not for you. If you are not comfortable with this, please skip over this story. This is your last warning.

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August 4, 1915,

Rumor has it those godforsaken Germans are advancing the Eastern Front once again to assault Крепость Осовец [Osowiec Fortress], the Russian Garrison where I guard as of now. As this is the third assault on the stronghold during война [The War; AKA World War I], I feel as if the Germans are more prepared than ever to fight tooth and nail against us. What's even more worrying is how ill equipped we are. Necessary supplies and equipment have never been as low in stock as of now, and lackluster authority and leadership is an absolute embarrassment to this nation. Yet we fight for our empire, for the царь [Tsar]. We keep our wits and swear our lives to stop the onslaught of those wretched Germans off our land.

Sincerely,

Russian Empire


August 5, 1915,

More news has arrived. The impending German Empire has been reported, though not confirmed, to have dabbled in a new type of warfare, chemical warfare. Though not at all new as I've also heard of Britain using it against them which most likely triggered the Germans use of it. Information out in the frontlines is slow and sparse, maybe this is just a hoax and they aren't actually using this supposed "Chlorine Gas." Some men around the garrison say that they've heard of its usage ever since April of this year, but this could be dumbed down to just another attempt of German Empire's classic fear mongering. Sitting here writing in my journal as I polish my Mosin-Nagant rifle, I must admit - I am scared. Something in me has gone off, a sharp and sudden burst of, perhaps, excitement? Nervousness one might say. No single word may describe this emotion. My mind tells of fear yet my body is rearing to not be a sitting duck waiting for an inevitable death. My arms and legs feel weak, yet my chest is puffed out and prideful. I am overthinking this. This was most likely what Britain and France advised me about not giving into fear, the adversaries trap. In this case the fear was of course the primitive fear of dying, but also the fear of torture. Stories of what this Chlorine Gas could do to a person makes any man shrink in their place thinking about it. Men shriveling up, dying, decaying. Slow, bloody carnage. I want nothing to do with those sorts, yet harsh times call upon me to rise up to any challenge and fight back. May the will of God rest within me.

Sincerely,
Russian Empire


August 6, 1915, 4:00 AM,

The cool breeze blows towards the German offensive lines. These winds wrap around my ragged army uniform making the hairs on my back rise. Perhaps it was actually because of the knowledge of what's to come. At approximately 1:00 AM this morning I made the choice to prepare supplies specifically for myself as most of the garrison slept. Call me selfish, but can one not argue that it was only the will to survive that causes one to make preparations? Afterall, if I don't survive, how can I aid my compatriots? A man must think of himself in order to help others. Though I do regret taking a peak at our rations and supplies because it appears to have only sunken my mood at the time. I stumbled upon crates half empty, low rations, few and low quality gas masks, tired men, and an almost sickening smell in the air. Supply shortages were a pain. I made the choice to instead leave the few, poorly made masks to the other soldiers and our lieutenant - it seemed to be no better than what a simple scarf could prevent after all.

A few minutes later after I had written the previous paragraph above I heard shouts ring through the fortification's halls. The other soldiers were told to wake up, the Germans were here. I took a peak outside and deeply breathed in the sweet air - oh how I'll miss it once I go down into the trenches. Winds seemed to change direction and now are running at us - just like the adversaries will do in a few moments. I raced through the hallways back to my living quarters, I snatched my gun and hastily ran out joining my company. This may be the last time I write, whether it be for a while or never, so I will make this short and sweet. Съ нами Богъ [God is with us].

My Final Sincerity,
Russian Empire


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