The Grid-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION < < <
Coordinates : 3 4
This large, dank room was the cellar of a big shared house on the riverbanks. The upper floors have mostly been demolished by air attacks and artillery.
There are a few separate areas, blocked from each other by the internal brick walls. Most of the places to sleep are little more than bedrolls on the filthy ground, ridden with lice.
Near the stairs that lead to the ruined outside is a long wooden table and some chairs. A mound of bricks with jury-rigged piping functions as a fireplace for the worst winter nights, smoke often backing up into the crowded basement.
Elise is avoiding the cold outside for the moment. Also she's asleep, tucked under a blanket with her head resting on Harmonica Ivan's unwounded shoulder. He, however, is not asleep, and is due on watch. There's an awkward juggling act where he tries to extricate himself without waking her up. It mostly succeeds, and off he goes. Soon after, Elise does stir, rubbing her eyes blearily. Where'd her pillow go?
Maschenko is sitting on the floor somewhere nearby, his jacket wrapped around his shoulders and hat jammed down on his head for warmth. A ragged blanket covers his knees, which are drawn up close to his chest to give him something to write on. One piece of of paper, staring back at him with a few words in his handwriting, and he just keeps reading it over and over.
Yulia is sprawled out on her bedroll, zonked out from all the work in the hospital earlier that day. And the skirmish the day before. And still paying for the day before that. There's no catching up. She stirs a little, hearing boots go by as Elise's pillow makes his way out. "…Huh?" She peers around through half-lidded eyes.
And Novikova wanders in, just in time to see Ivan wander after wriggling free of her cousin. It brings a faintly worried, but happy smile. "Comrades," She lifts a hand in greeting and inches in. "How are you?"
Dimitri appears in the doorway to the square. He shakes snow from his collar before walking in the to room. Lowly he says, "Morning comrades." A smile to everyone before he makes his way over to sit at a table.
Elise was at the hospital late as well, and is totally disoriented as to the time. She blinks at Dimitri. "It's morning already?" She rubs her face once more, a faintly disappointed look now that her brain fully processes that Ivan left, and then she sees her cousin. "Zoya."
Maschenko's eyes stay down on the paper. One sentence. He closes his eyes, gently pressing his fingers into the ridge over both and then against the eyelids themselves, tension at the corners of his eyes. Fingertips dig into the bridge of his nose and then he curls his arm back against his chest. He looks over at Yulia, then at the others.
At Dimitri's 'good morning' Yulia looks just as disappointed as Elise. But awake is awake. "Well…good morning, comrades." She sniffs, sitting up, and tugs fingers through her mess of blond hair. A look around at the others while doing so. Her eyes briefly snag on Maschenko once she sees what he is doing, but then continue on to Elise. "Thank you for your help at the hospital."
Elise doesn't really notice the doctor, still half-asleep. She smiles slightly to Yulia. "Not at all, Comrade Yulia. How's your arm feeling?"
Heavy boots tromp down the stairs, a junior officer accompanied by a sergeant. "Everyone up!" the officer bellows. "Assemble in the square in five minutes." The officer swiftly retreats, but the sergeant stays behind to roust layabouts and make sure people are filing out.
Dimitri nods to them, "Sadly, yes. I'm just here to wake someone up to take my place at watch." He grins, rubbing at his eyes. He looks longingly for an empty bedroll now. A forlorn look dons upon his face when the officer tells them to file out. "Bah." He'll be the good little comrade that he is and follow orders.
Novikova smiles at her cousin. Poor Elise. "Elise," She beams, "Did you have a good nap?" She asks quietly.. There's a smile to Comrade Doctor. And Yulia too. "Good morning," She chirps at Yulia and pauses as the officer and sergeant stomp in. Oh boy. She frowns and nods. "Da." She's obedient though.
Maschenko starts slightly at the tromping, his shoulders tensing. When the call comes for assembly rather than assault, he scratches his roughly stubbled cheek and starts untangling himself from the thin blanket and his things, folding the paper and sliding it into his bag. Rifle picked up from the wall, jacket tossed on.
"It's fine—" Yulia starts to reply, before her words vanish under the stomping boots. She blinks blearily at the officer but gets up before the sergeant tosses her from the bedroll. She gathers her satchel and rifle too, and starts bundling up to prepare to go.
Elise tenses as well on hearing the heavy boots, but then gets up, slipping on her jacket and hat and filing out with the others. "Da, not as long as I'd have liked," she tells Zoya with a slight smile. A nod to Yulia as well.
The Grid-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION < < <
Coordinates : 3 3
A large open plaza, dominated by a statue depicting the greater Leader, Comrade Lenin, who led the Communist Party to glory and bequeathed to the people of Russia a worker's paradise.
The fascists have little respect for the man it seems judging by the heavy shellfire that the square has suffered.
It is currently dawn.
«Game» Pasha moves into Statue of Lenin.
Novikova arrives from the North.
A Red Army officer rounded the troops up this morning for a matter of "poltical and morale importance." They were herded to the square and are just getting properly gathered. Pasha is already in attendance, standing by the statue bearing Lenin's grim visage. He's holding a paper, what looks like a standard Party leaflet, in his hands. Now that the lieutenant has made the rounds he approaches the statue as well, to speak to Pasha briefly in a low tone.
Dimitri stands as close to the statue as he can, his previously tired demeanor now replaces with one of Communist pride and vigor. He takes the time to unwrap the bandana from around his head, watching whatever's happening with his eye and a half.
Maschenko wraps his scarf around his neck tightly as he gets out into the subfreezing dawn, his breath instantly fogging up from behind the tattered wool. His hat's tugged securely over his ears, eyes watering in the cold wind. He casts a covert glance over his shoulder towards Yulia, making sure for himself that the nurse is on her feet alright, then folds his arms over his chest for the added warmth.
Elise shivers in the cold, body temperature still in that 'I was just asleep' mode. She looks curious, shuffling her feet a little to get the blood flowing. She puts on her handwraps and then crosses her arms like the doctor, keeping hands tucked in under her armpits.
Yulia follows the others into the square, hands tucked under her arms. She stomps her boots a few times to warm up and wake up, and a sniff of her nose, which is threatening to go runny from the chill. Her puffy eyes search the crowd, and gradually make their way up towards Pasha. Then the statue.
Oh dear. Novikova follows along. She bundled up as best as she can, although her eyes are watering and cheeks red thanks to the cold. She stays near Elise, checking over to her cousin. "Always seems that way huh?" She offers quietly and yawns. She pats her siides to keep her hands wriggling.
Novikova notices Pasha though, and stays quiet, peering at him.
The Lieutenant clears his throat. "Comrades! In honor of November seventh…" It's about the tenth now, if one wants to be strictly correct about such things. Even ceremony doesn't travel fast to the frontlines. Well, he presses on as if there is no matter. "…and the glorious founding of Russian Soviet Republic in 1917, when our brave forefathers and comrades did triumph over the oppression of the tsar. Our great leader, Premier Joseph Stalin, has a message for his troops fighting now, today, for Mother Russia. Comrade Konstantinov has experience in such matters. Read, Konstantinov." Pasha, for his part, has to take a moment to clear his throat. Looking red-faced in a way that probably isn't all from the weather.
"I didn't realize it was the seventh already," Elise murmurs under her breath, just loud enough for Novi and anyone else standing near to hear. She sniffles a little as well, and watches with interest as Pasha gets the spotlight.
Dimitri stands at attention, looking to Pasha to hear the statement that has been prepared for them.
Yulia stills in her 'I'm cold' fidgeting as the lieutenant speaks. A ghost of a smile moves her lips. No parades, but at least they are honoring the day. Comrade Pasha must be proud to have such an honor. The smile passes just as quickly as it came, as she briefly looks out over the crowd again.
The dark gray wool around Maschenko's face turns his eyes the same color in the smoke-hazy dawn. With his mouth obscured it's tough to tell his exact expression; his eyes watch the Lieutenant and then turn to Pasha. Just after the young man's name is spoken for the second time, something in the doctor's eyes changes. A slight sharpening, nothing more, and less hostile than a long moment of examination.
Novikova asides quietly, "Me either." This is a somewhat guilty admission. She takes a deep breath. "Oh hey, he's in our unit." Beam. novikova smiles, and listens then. She seems pleased enough. She squirms a little to keep warm, but stays near Elise.
"From Premier Stalin. Ahem. 'Comrades, Red Army men, working people of the Soviet Union!" Pasha begins. The young man's voice has a surprisingly resonant quality, hesitant as he seems a lot of the time. The sort taught in debate classes and the like, as a means of 'projecting' for a crowd. "On behalf of the Soviet Government and our Bolshevik Party I greet and congratulate you on the day of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the victory of the triumph of the Great October Socialist Revolution. A quarter of a century ago, workers and peasants under the leadership of the Bolshevik Party and the great Lenin established the power of the Soviets in our country. Since that time the peoples of the Soviet Union have traversed a glorious road. In twenty-five years our country has become a mighty socialist industrial power with collective agriculture." He manages to at least /say/ all of that with ringing socialist conviction, too. "Having gained liberty and independence, the peoples of the Soviet country are united in inviolable fraternal companionship. The Soviet people have freed themselves of all oppression and by persevering labor ensured a well-to-do and cultural life for themselves. The peoples of our country meet today on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution, in the heat of violent struggle against the German-fascist invaders and their associates in Europe. At the beginning of this year, in the winter period, the Red Army dealt heavy blows to the German-fascist troops. Having beaten off the German attack on Moscow, it took the initiative in its own hands, passed to the offensive and drove the German troops westward, liberating a number of regions of our country from German slavery. The Red Army thus demonstrated that under certain favorable conditions it can overwhelm the German-fascist troops." It wasn't all as simple or easy as that, of course. But such struggles do not make it into rhetoric. Another clearing of his throat. There's more to come.
Dimitri stands quietly as Pasha speaks. He nods on occasion, just to prove that he's listening. Being the loyal Communist that he is, he can hardly restrain himself from cheering.
Whoa. Dude can give speeches. Novikova seems duly impressed, blinking. Is that Pasha? Their Pasha? She tilts her head to listen and stay huddled near Elise. Her hazel eyes are intent on poor Pasha and she smiles, hearing that there is more to come.
Yulia listens with as much rapt attention mustered while still bleary from sleep. Not to mention she's heard a lot of similar speeches before. Her gaze alternates from Pasha to the statue while the speech is read, then looks into the crowd again. Some now familiar, some brand new. And some not here to celebrate today. The mention of Moscow grabs her attention back.
Maschenko closes his eyes slowly somewhere in the middle of Stalin's speech-by-proxy, curls of steam rising through the scarf in regular puffs. They open again, narrowed in the wind, his attention locked on Pasha. Corners of his eyes grow slightly tight at the mention of the fascists being pushed backwards — as faint a hope that that is it's still better news that what's been choking them the last few months in Stalingrad.
Elise nods to Novi. "Da, it's Pasha. I wonder how he got picked." She listens, lifting her chin slightly at the inspiring words, revisionist though they may be. She stifles a sneeze against her sleeve.
Cheering is probably more or less expected. The lieutenant even offers a rousing one on occasion. Less at the words themselves as to stir the crowd of soldiers into something resembling enthusiasm. "Now, the enemy has been checked at Stalingrad!" This part projected by Pasha with extra enthusiasm. "However, having been checked at Stalingrad and having already lost there tens of thousands of officers and men, the enemy hurls into action fresh divisions, exerting his last efforts. The struggle on the Soviet-German front is growing in intensity. On the outcome of this struggle depends the fate of the Soviet State, the freedom and independence of our country."
Ahem. "The calculations of the German imperialists on the disintegration of the Soviet State completely failed. Socialist industry, the collective farming system, the friendship of the peoples of our country, have proved stable and impregnable. Workers and peasants, all intellectuals of our country, the whole of our rear, conscientiously and selflessly work to supply the requirements of our front. The Red Army bears the brunt of the war against Hitlerite Germany and her associates. By its selfless struggle against the fascist armies it has won the affection and respect of all the freedom-loving peoples of the world. The heroic defenders of Moscow and Tula, Odessa and Sevastopol, Leningrad and Stalingrad, have set examples of supreme courage, iron discipline, staunchness and the ability to win. Our whole Red Army emulates these heroes." Another pause for breath. Yes, there's still more. Stalin is a wordy fellow.
Yulia may add her voice weakly to a cheer or two, but finds her eyes stinging as the speech goes on. And not only from the cold. She burrows her chin into her scarf and rubs her nose.
«Game» It is now daytime.
So there's a touch of pride in the way Maschenko's chin lifts a little when the two Ukrainian cities are singled out. Still, that's definitely not a smile on his face behind the scarf. If anything his sharp eyes darken a little bit, his jaw tensed. A nod or two after Pasha stops for breath, the growing light of day slowly lightening the left side of his face.
Novikova offers a cheer or two herself. She's not too loud though, and hms softly at elise, "I have no idea how they pick…." She admits quietly. Novikova does smile as Maschenko's chin lifts a little. She seems pleased somehow. She snffffffffffts softly though, somehow dampening her cheer. D'oh. Her face twists when she does it too.
Elise cheers with the masses, though her voice is a little scratchy so it's not as loud as it otherwise might have been. She's still cold, though, tucking her arms in more tightly.
Pasha says "Comrades, Red Army men and women! It is on your perseverance, staunchness, fighting skill and readiness to discharge your duty to the country that the defeat of the German-fascist army andsthe liberation of the Soviet land from the Hitlerite invaders depend! We can and must clear the Soviet land of Hitlerite vermin. Comrades, the enemy has already experienced the force of the blows of the Red Army before Rostov, before Moscow, before Tikhvin. The day is not far off when the enemy will feel the force of new blows of the Red Army. There will be a holiday in our streets! Long live the 25th anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution! Long live our Red Army! Long live our gallant men and women guerrillas! Death to the German-fascist invaders!" And that does actually appear to be that. Young Pasha is flushed by the time he's finished. The Lieutenant then starts up a round of especially pointed cheering for the words of the great Uncle Joe."
Someone standing next to Maschenko bursts into applause with the rest, shouting into the cacophony that rises after the last words of the speech. The doctor himself is very still for a few moments before he begins to clap along with cold-cracked hands, lifting them up to the level of his face. His eyes lift for a few moment to the hazy sky, as if looking for something — or someone — up there, staying riveted on the black clouds a while before returning to the statue.
Yulia finds herself tensed and nodding with fervor as the speech reaches its climax. She is fixed on Pasha with reddish, damp eyes. A holiday in the streets. Like before, though it can't possibly be the same again. But it is attainable. The last few calls inspire her enough to cheer with the best of them, cold and raw as her voice might be.
"Death to the invaders!" Elise chimes in, before another sneeze undermines the threatening message. Hard to be intimidating that way. She sniffs and claps heartily, the motion having the added bonus of warming up her hands a little.
Novikova cheers with the others, eyes still on Pasha. Novikova snfffffffts again though, somehow dampening the image. But at least her cheeks are a duly patriotic bright red. She will clap after a bit too. She is tensed a bit, in awe of the moment and the cheering crowds around her. It's enough to make her head spin.
Pasha manages a closed-fist communist salute before he leaves his place near the statue. The lieutenant does some more cheering and then calls, "Comrades, take these words with you as strength to face the Fascists! Remember, our great leaders are with you spirit. Together, we shall purge the enemies from our city. Dismissed!" Pasha, meanwhile, kind slinks into the crowd.
"ZA RODINA! ZA RODINA!"
Someone starts up the chanting nearby and it picks up in a near frenzy — hope clung to with the deathgrip of desperation and a sudden fervor. Even Maschenko calls it out once or twice, his voice and accent lost among the hundreds of others. An earsplitting whistle rings out, someone sticking their fingers in their mouths to give it off amidst the noise. The doctor fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, turning his back to the wind to light it, and as the smoke begins to whip from it he pauses to look back at the sky again. His shoulder's jostled a few times by people shoving by him, his ears ringing from the shouts and cheering spreading through Red Square. He's an immobile thing standing there for a while, watching the hazy shape of the sun climbing in the sky. Nobody's really going to hear him talk, the words under his breath in the middle of a sea of voices. "We will, Efim. I promise."
Elise joins in the chanting as well, though technically it's not her motherland. She pumps one fist in time with the words. A youthful exuberance and furvor is evident despite the sniffles.
Novikova smiles at the chant, looking to Maschenko - although it's hard to concentrate and Novikova mills in the crowd a little. She really does hope they clear those those Fascists. There's a brief twinge of hope and worry. She smiles too at Elise, even joining in the cheering. Though she's careful not to bop anyone in her enthusiasm.
