Eight Men [fanfic]
Title: Eight Men
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: R
Characters: Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Prussia, Poland, America, Russia
Genre: Dark, History, Friendship, Drama
Pairings: SuFin, DenNor, GerIta, LietPol and hinted others
Warnings: Violence, extreme sexual situations, dark themes
Summary: August 1945. While the humans debate the proper end to the Second World War in Potsdam, the nations are already in Nuremberg, trying to decide what to do with Germany, Bulgaria, and Finland. For eight of them, Allied and Axis alike, this has just been the inevitable conclusion of history.
Chapter: Six (Part 1 of 8)
Rating: R
Characters: Austria, Hungary, Russia, Ukraine
Warnings: Warning for Hungary being all Magyar Manry against Russia and the Ukraine.
Pairings: AusHun
Summary: September 1916. A campaign that once looked so bright for Russia gets bogged down in the Carpathian Mountains.
Eight Men
Historical Notes
The Carpathians - Brusilov Offensive was the major successful Russian campaign of the war. Beginning in June, General Brusilov ordered a fast, brutal artillery bombardment of weak points in the Austro-Hungarian lines, and then sent the Russian soldiers to attack the few survivors. It completely broke down the southern end of the Eastern front, and then the Imperial army was on the move. However, thanks to political in-fighting in Russian command, the advance was extremely ragged. When Brusilov asked for more divisions of the army his fellows blocked the movement of troops by dithering. When he didn't need the reserves, he was given the extra men, whose main purpose became cannon fodder that blocked the swampy northern end of the advance, and the mountainous passes of the southern end. Yay. Oh, and those mountains? Turns out that fighting Hungarians on their home turf is a bad move.
Now, the Austro-Hungarian Empire was known for being less than competent in WWI, and this reputation is not entirely without merit. The Dual Monarchy had three armies, one joint army, and then two armies that respectively served the royalty of Hungary and Austria. These two were better equipped and trained because military politics in the Empire often lead to the Hungarians and Austrians fighting over the defense budget and trying to get the biggest portion allotted to their men. So, the main army was underfunded, and made up of strong national divisions. Strong national divisionry isn't a problem in a well-run army. The Russian army had a similar make-up, and when competently led, such as in the Brusilov offensive, the man-power and unity of a multi-national fighting force is insane. Unfortunately, the Austrian officers (like Prussia, Austria tended to have the lion's share of command positions in their army, unlike Prussia, however, Austria did not reward free thinkers who ignored pre-planned tactics in favor of winning) thought they were fighting in the same wars that their fathers had fought (Prussia adds: and lost). This meant that there were a lot of charges and battles based on tactics that no longer worked for modern warfare. So, soldiers who were rather tired of either losing, being used as footstools, or cannon fodder depending on the feelings of their officers, had a tendency to kill their commanders and then break down into units on national lines, and retreat before they were either killed by the Russians, or the German army found out. Those Germans weren't so hot on insubordination.
This meant, however, that by the time the Russians reached the Carpathians they were filled with angry Hungarian troops who knew the terrain and made the mountains unassailable. Hungarians on their own ground without stupid officers generally meant a lot of dead Russians at the end of the day. The Offensive by that time was petering out, and the Russian army felt, having made as much ground as they could, that turning their divisions to Serbia was the best move, because Hungary was too tough. It should be noted that Brusilov's tactics were not copied by his Russian contemporaries. But the German observers with the Austro-Hungarian army took notes, and nearly destroyed France with them less than a month later.
Chapter 6: That Which is Defeated
September 1916 - Carpathians, Austro-Hungarian Empire (Modern day Ukraine)
Russia's rifle felt good in his hands. The wood was solid. It was there. It made sense. It was a weapon. That was about the only think that was making sense, however. Why was it taking so long for his army to move? They had almost won, and then this confusion that had made him walk all the way here from Kowel in disgust and frustration [1].
He had seen men slaughtered. He had watched as railways carried and unloaded Germans, all under the command of that boy he had remembered as a small, adorably naïve blond child, who now wore his nationhood like a serious cloak, a frown etched permanently on his features, and simply exuded power. Prussia had a hand in his molding, which seemed strangest of all, because whatever Germany was, he felt like someone far older, a hint of the distant past clung to him in the same way it clung to Sweden.
He felt Katyusha before he saw her. Dusk was falling, and since it was his rotation as a sentry he was looking away from the camp. The soft crunch of pine needles assailed him, and then a warm weight settled over his shoulders. He turned his head just enough to see brown leather gloves rearranging an extra coat on his shoulders.
"How is your head, Vanya?" she asked quietly, as she made the northwest end of camp the best guarded place in the world.
Having both representatives of the people here was a waste of resources, but Ivan could not bring himself to care in the early mountain evening. He smiled at his older sister, again secretly marveling that she was shorter than he was now. She had been for a long time, but it never failed to amaze him.
"It is better. And you?"
She looked into the dark green gloom. "The closer we get to Austria the more strongly I feel all of my old wounds. He has too many of my people locked up [2]. I did not think that he would be this far South. Not even the Germans have divisions here."
Ivan shrugged. "It is Magyar land. Austria's current wife is of those people."
Katyusha shook her head. "Austria is a heart-hearted man. I am certain of this. Even my people on his side do not like him. He is only with Hungary for the necessity of her power. Vanya? Are you certain that your head isn't hurting in any way?"
Russia caught the shrewd look from his sister, who was not capable of masking her worry, but certainly could tell when he was fibbing. "It was-It gets bad and then gets better. I have been thinking a lot, recently. Going to the speeches in Moscow. I think it is those that cause such storms. But a few migraines are worth it, да? I am so close, I think. These things-have words always been this strong? I see things. A future, great and glorious. Where my people are happy, as we have not been since the days after the Tartars. I am finally seeing things as I should. I think. I hope," the excitement in his voice dwindled. "I don't like some of the ideas. Katyusha, would you be able to live on your own?"
She covered a disbelieving laugh. "Oh Vanya. Oh Vanya. I have been asking to build my own house once again. Of course I would be able to live on my own."
Russia, brooding, did not see the reason for her merriment. "You needed me once. What if your house makes you think that you will never need me again? Or makes you too stubborn to come for aid? I have heard that giving houses can really delude a person. Look at what Tino has done, as I let him live on his own."
Katusha sighed, and Ivan thought he saw wind rippling through long tassels of wheat in the exasperated breath. "Oh, Vanya, we all have done far more to resist you than Finland."
The breath caught in Ivan's throat. Staring down at his little sister's body, and seeing it for the first time. No. No. He had not-he could have sworn it was Poland. He had thought it was Poland. It had to have been Poland. "I trusted Tino, and he betrayed that trust. He told me as much. You all have never betrayed me. Other than Poland, but that is what he does. He is out in these mountains, too. He fights us, Katyusha. Can't you feel it? For Austria."
Unable to deny the truth of that statement, Katyusha nodded pensively. "Austria promised him freedom."
"I have, too!" Ivan knew he was being petulant, but he did not like the implications of Katyusha's words.
Shrugging her shoulders within the gray brown of her coat, Katyusha did not deny this. "He and Austria have always had a shared understanding of each other. Also, I heard that Austria convinced Germany and Prussia to agree to Feliks' demands. Even if it is all a lie, for Austria to have managed that is impressive and convincing. You know it is. They certainly have no love for him in their armies."
Russia, who had many Austrian officers in his POW camps, smiled grimly. "I suppose that it is convincing. If only the Magyar disliked him just as much, да? Then we would not have this war here, and would instead be actively helping France [3]."
Katyusha, not as well schooled in warfare, and not knowing the full extent of the lines, glanced at Ivan. "But surely, all we must do is wait for Romania to reinforce our flank, and then-oh, no, isn't Romania coming?"
Ivan glanced about, making certain that the humans were far enough away so that they wouldn't see or hear him. Then he gave a little shake of his head. "There are enough of his people here, we would have felt it. The mountains would no longer stink of Magyar alone. If he is coming, it will be later in the year. I don't understand it. Why is none of this going as expected? We break the Austro-Hungarian line, and then advance, and it is then that the fight becomes difficult. Each way that the army goes is more difficult than the last. I am now with men who must take mountains made only for goats. I feel so much confusion all the time from my humans. The Imperial Army is not confused in battle! It is great! We have not yet met a single objective since Lutsk. In July I saw my army advancing like the great wave of the Red Sea returning after God parted the waters to drown all the Egyptians. Now I'm lost in these mountains. It was supposed to be our moment of glory. The Empire was going to wake, and be a real force, like France had been."
Biting her lip, Katyusha slung her arms around him in a tight hug. "Maybe it's for the best, then. France's empire did terrible things."
Ivan grinned. "He lit Europe ablaze. Life was warm for a few moments."
Katyusha shook her head quietly, stuffing her hands in her pockets to protect against the evening air. "This isn't good for our people. I thought that you were listening to them more."
Russia shrugged. "War may not be good for our people in the immediate, but it will help us expand, and with that we will have more land to grow things on, and then we can feed more people, and have more come into our house-,"
"I thought you were thinking about giving us our own houses," Katyusha could not be sharp, because she was Katyusha. However, she managed something quite painful with her softness.
Ivan tried to think of a way to explain things without making her bring out that knitting needle point. "Ye-I am thinking about it, Katyusha."
Resoluteness gripped her mouth, which lost its easy capacity for smiles. "I do not wish to continue dealing with you as though we are strangers on opposite ends of the field, Vanya. B-but I am ready to do so. You are not the only one who goes to the speeches and demonstrations."
Russia looked away from his older sister, accidentally taking his eyes from his post, and duty. "Why must you leave me? I do not wish to be alone. It is lovely when we are all together."
"We all must grow up sometime," and the gentle softness had returned to her voice, telling Ivan that whatever was troubling Katyusha he was not the one causing it. She still loved him.
Keeping duty at the fore of his mind, Russia turned his eyes to the dimness of the trees once more. "Українська Народня Республіка [4]."
Caught in the act of twisting back to the camp, Katyusha stilled. Ivan smiled out of one side of his mouth at her. Softly, he repeated the name in the language that was not Russian, trying not to stumble over the words. "Українська Народня Республіка, да?"
She blinked, the warm but pale and much reduced orange light of the fire lighting her left side. "Vanya?"
Hoping that this gift was as large to her as it felt to him, Russia repeated the name once more, trying to mimic the tones and accent that he heard among her people. "Українська Народня Республіка. I am practicing saying it. Maybe I will have to say it a lot in times to come."
Unfortunately, Katyusha caught the use of the imperative, and frowned with obviously hurt disapproval. "I hope it will not be painful to you, having to address me as a nation."
"That is why I must practice," Russia replied, with his smile firmly in place like a mask. Suddenly, a surge in the land around them caught his attention, and both soldiers stared into the woodland. "That was Hungary, да? She must be wounded. If we get a troop of soldiers we might be able to-," Russia stopped as Katyusha shook her head.
Holding up a cautionary hand, the gentle representative of a people nodded toward the soldiers. "This has been the first night that we have dared light a fire. Give the men some time to rest, and not carry away the dead [5]. I think that we can always call them up if it appears to be only a small force, or should it just be Hungary, then we should be sufficient."
Ivan grinned, feeling the old liveliness stirring in his veins, chasing away the fogs and confusions that lay in his head. "You think like a warrior, sister."
"I wish it were otherwise," Katyusha's reply was full of Katyusha, calm love and soft wool. He was glad that nothing could really ever change her. "However, we must do the job before us."
Together, they set off through the trees and the gloom. The September air was chill, and the mountains hostile, although not actively so. Russia occasionally spared glances backward for his post. He was abandoning it, but a human would soon replace him.
An hour's worth of stalking brought them up a field filled with flowers that were dying as their season passed, through more trees, and into a beautiful valley still in the night, except for the water reflecting the light of the stars, the lake trembling in the lightest breeze. The brother and sister stuck silently to the rim of this valley, climbing over rocks and trying not to crush any vegetation under foot, just in case Hungary's energies were being used on her own land, and the broken stems would cry out a warning.
For a minute, as they began to ascend again, Katyusha paused her gloved hand brushing the rock sadly. Ivan thought of how the peaceful valley would look once they got the artillery up here. Just another blasted land filled with dead bodies. Like him. Just like him. This would become part of him, and he could not wait, even if it hurt Katyusha to think of things this way. She would learn. Oh yes. Everything was to be part of Russia. Oh yes.
Their breathing became shorter as they climbed. Then, suddenly, humans just appeared. Stepping from one slab of stone to the next, it was as though the siblings had passed some barrier, and a camp of men had suddenly appeared just ahead of them. Both lands shrunk into the shadows, astounded. Russia cautiously peered around his chosen tree, an ancient thing, barely hanging onto a near-vertical cliff face.
Magyar, almost exclusively, from the uniforms, and the languages being passed back and forth. Occasional spurts of awkward German spoke of other nationalities, but not many, and probably not Germans in of themselves. Poles, if Ivan was to take a guess [6]. Bulgaria's people, maybe? The humans were active, moving things in mysterious ways. The lack of warning as to their appearance, and the feeling of the land around them made Russia suspect that this group was being used as some sort of guard for Hungary.
He wished for a machine gun. However, he had his rifle, and ammunition. With a delighted grin, he unslung the gun, only to be stopped by Katyusha's hand on his arm. She shook her head silently, motioning that they needed to walk around these humans.
She was right, as usual. While he could kill many of the humans, there would always be more. There were always more humans. They were not as precious as nations. If he or his sister was discovered, and then killed, what would that mean for the troops? What would that mean for the campaign?
Returning his rifle to its shoulder strap with a saddened sigh, he nodded, and they began to circle around, knowing that the men would have very little idea of the lands the Easterners represented. Katyusha was probably in more danger of being spotted than he was, oddly enough. Many people in this part of the world knew her open love and delight in grain fields swaying in the summer wind. Soon they would know России [7]. Everyone knew him sooner or later. The Empire was going to be reborn and burn like a bright flame. Soon. Soon enough.
Leaving the yellow warmth of the human fires behind them, the siblings found themselves heading west, the incline now almost too steep for anything, even a mountain goat. Ivan found himself wanting to mention this to Katyusha, get her to laugh and tell him a tale of ibexes on distant peaks, the way she had once done when they were younger. So much younger.
Suddenly, yellow peeked around a rock face of thick green and purple shadows. The two lands stopped simultaneously, dropping to bellies, before crawling forward. Yes. Here she was. Here they were, Russia should say, vaguely surprised. From a small tent of slanted rocks, he could hear a soft murmur of voices. Soon, they were close enough to see two figures by the fire, one already bandaged so that a slash of white bisected what appeared to be black hair in this light, and the other, with her military shirt lifted to reveal a bloody mess of holes and raised flesh slowly knitting next to her spine. Her partner was peering intently at the hole, long tweezers flashing in the changing light as they dived in and out of wounded flesh, bringing out bloody slugs of metal, and dropping them in something that rang like a bell with each added piece of shot.
"You, ah! Ow-Really, you don't have to do this, Roderich. I'll heal on my own."
Her voice was strained, tired. Good. Венгрия [8] would fall. Must fall. They would conquer the west. Without warning his head began to hurt. Late night back in Moscow, and there was a protest in progress. A stirring speech, complaining of casualties. Ivan tried to concentrate on the enemy, ruthlessly blocking the voices of his people from his thoughts.
Austria brought forward a damp cloth. The puffy dusty rosy skin was scrubbed at, causing the wounded woman to grunt for a second, and then bite down on her lip.
The other half of the dual monarchy's voice floated on the cool air, weary and quiet. "I wouldn't be useful for much if I couldn't at least take care of this. You shouldn't have worn yourself out earlier."
"We're not going to lose to some scarf-wearing maniac," Hungary chuckled gamely. "You have to prepare if you want to win. You should be with your troops. I'll do fine on my own, I promise."
Her current doctor picked up a roll of bandage. He hesitated for a moment, and then began to wrap her back. The flickering light colored his cheeks warmly, but his rejoinder was cool and calculated. "You didn't abandon me when Lusk fell. If I did not repay you for that I would not be a good husband, now would I?"
A light chuckle. Sometimes all that could be done was laugh at the dark. "You're needed with your troops. You know you are."
"Why? So that they can shoot me again? Or I could just wait for Prussia to show up and do it for them [9]. You know I heard him asking Germany if they could switch sides and fight with the English?"
A small gasp as a bandage was tugged too tightly, and then the wry observation: "You were trying to desert the army, Austria. That sort of thing is bad for discipline."
"The time with Prussia, I was getting coffee for him because he asked me to," Austria was clearly mortified by the apparent insubordination of his allies. Russia would never let any of his children do something like that. The voices in his head rose shrilly. There was a riot over the price of bread in some small city. A woman was crying for the death of her son. A man drank away the loss of his farm.
The Empire was losing.
Ivan rose to his feet, his head cool, despite the raging headache.
"Trust him to take advantage of his standing orders. I'll have to have a little talk to Prussia about that."
He brought his rifle to his shoulder, sighting on Hungary's heart.
"There, now just let me fix this-,"
The rifle fired with a roar. CLANG! Hungary whipped the frying pan around almost as quickly as the ricocheting bullet. Without a word she rolled away from the ring of firelight, trailing her white bandage, just as Austria overturned a kettle of water on the fire, extinguishing the light. Green and purple bubbles bounced across Russia's vision, as he counted. Four. A shot to where he had last seen Austria's head. Three.
Out of the darkness, Hungary was suddenly visible, a terrible demon made of floating hair and translucent skin. She brought her cast iron weapon down on Katyusha, who fumbled for her shashka, blocking the blunt instrument with a frightened gasp. Taking the opportunity presented, Ivan roared angrily, and dashed forward, slamming his bayonet into the injured side of the woman who fought like a man with no heart.
"My sister, Австро-Венгрия [10], is sacrosanct!"
The pan slammed into the side of Ivan's head. Suddenly his green and purple vision was flashing on and off, as his mind jumped back to Moscow, and a boy sleeping tired and exposed in a door way; among the men of a camp, tiredly playing cards far from home, ready to die for his glory; with a column of Cossack cavalry marching north in the dark. He should be there. He needed to be there.
Another slam! Wham! Bonk! Hungary growled furiously, coming in close: "Saját hegyek, Orosz Birodalom [11]!"
She whirled, just as Russia discovered, bemusedly, that his body had turned to water, muscles tumbling and pooling, spreading out all over the ground, which he sunk to, amazed, and lost. He barely had the presence of mind to pull the trigger as he slumped, and Hungary struck Katyusha with the crack of breaking fingers.
Blood splashed all over his fixed smile.
Footnotes and Annotations
[1] - German observers with the Austro-Hungarian Army were rightly terrified of this offensive, and some wrote back to command that the only reason that the Eastern front was holding was because the Russian Army would basically pause, waffle at every intersection, and then choose the area where the enemy defenses were the strongest, and most impregnable, as the best place to attack.
[2] - The nationalities on the borders of the Russian Empire, such as the Ukrainians, Poles, Lithuanians etc. were caught in between the two sides of the war. Most tried to side with the group they thought was going to give them the best chance at freedom from the Empire as a reward. This led to a lot of negotiation with proto-governments on both sides, promising to give each each nationality the bigger and better pieces of traditional land, etc. The majority of Ukrainians chose to side with the Russians. The Austrians, although they let Poles into their army, were exceedingly suspicious of the Ukrainians, and administered loyalty tests. Ukrainians who failed them were locked up in prisoner of war camps and treated slightly worse than people would normally treat rabid dogs.
[3] - The Brusilov Offensive began as an attempt to distract the German Army from the Western Front and give France time to breathe. Russia and France have a complicated relationship.
[4] - 'Українська Народня Республіка' is Ukrainian for 'Ukrainian National Republic' and is pronounced Ukraïnsʹka Narodnya Respublika. This would become Ukraine's name once she was granted her own house in the treaty of Brest-Livosk, which was re-affirmed in the Treaty of Versailles. The Ukrainians thought that they were getting a really good deal out of communism, and were very gung-ho about it. Then Russia post World War Two happened to them.
[5] - Cossack soldiers in WWI had a habit of carrying their dead away from the battle lines almost as quickly as they had been slain. This helps keep the corpses from piling up underfoot, and the Hungarian whose account I was reading was very impressed with the reverence and care displayed for the dead.
[6] - As a multinational army with people coming from languages with little to no connection with each other, like Hungarian and Polish, German often became the language used to communicate between disparate groups. Not having to learn any language but your own is just one of the many perks of being the conqueror. Of course, this became a problem for Austrian commanders who could not speak the language of the men under their command.
[7] - Rossii
[8] - 'Венгрия' is Russian for 'Hungary' and pronounced Vengirya
[9] - The morale of the Austrian Army was shot to pieces. If a commander did something stupid to piss off his troops, he could easily face being killed by his own men. Often times, the commanders were smart enough to realize when the line had been crossed (usually about one meal time after the food supplies ran out, but also after losing the sixth battle in a row, and not being very understanding to troops that were gibbering their remaining wits away). So, they deserted, hoping that they were close enough to the Russian lines to get placed in a POW camp, or failing that, survive until they could get very, very, very far away from anyone who spoke German. Because the Germans shot deserters without even inquiring if they were deserting or not. This was common military practice, but it was surprising how disproportionately many Austrians died like this. They became rather infamous, actually. Germans wanted to switch sides and fight with the English rather than be allied with an army of sniveling cowards. The irony of this situation is that the English felt the same way about their French counterparts. Oh what a war it could have been.
[10] - 'Австро-Венгрия' is Russian for 'Austria-Hungary' and is pronounced Avstro-Vengirya
[11] - 'Saját hegyek, Orosz Birodalom' is Hungarian for 'My mountains, Russian Empire'
Links to Other PartsGo Back a Section: That Which Is Indomitable - Part Eight
Go Forward a Section: That Which Is Defeated - Part Two
Head over to the rant about World War One
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: R
Characters: Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Prussia, Poland, America, Russia
Genre: Dark, History, Friendship, Drama
Pairings: SuFin, DenNor, GerIta, LietPol and hinted others
Warnings: Violence, extreme sexual situations, dark themes
Summary: August 1945. While the humans debate the proper end to the Second World War in Potsdam, the nations are already in Nuremberg, trying to decide what to do with Germany, Bulgaria, and Finland. For eight of them, Allied and Axis alike, this has just been the inevitable conclusion of history.
Chapter: Six (Part 1 of 8)
Rating: R
Characters: Austria, Hungary, Russia, Ukraine
Warnings: Warning for Hungary being all Magyar Manry against Russia and the Ukraine.
Pairings: AusHun
Summary: September 1916. A campaign that once looked so bright for Russia gets bogged down in the Carpathian Mountains.
Eight Men
Historical Notes
The Carpathians - Brusilov Offensive was the major successful Russian campaign of the war. Beginning in June, General Brusilov ordered a fast, brutal artillery bombardment of weak points in the Austro-Hungarian lines, and then sent the Russian soldiers to attack the few survivors. It completely broke down the southern end of the Eastern front, and then the Imperial army was on the move. However, thanks to political in-fighting in Russian command, the advance was extremely ragged. When Brusilov asked for more divisions of the army his fellows blocked the movement of troops by dithering. When he didn't need the reserves, he was given the extra men, whose main purpose became cannon fodder that blocked the swampy northern end of the advance, and the mountainous passes of the southern end. Yay. Oh, and those mountains? Turns out that fighting Hungarians on their home turf is a bad move.
Now, the Austro-Hungarian Empire was known for being less than competent in WWI, and this reputation is not entirely without merit. The Dual Monarchy had three armies, one joint army, and then two armies that respectively served the royalty of Hungary and Austria. These two were better equipped and trained because military politics in the Empire often lead to the Hungarians and Austrians fighting over the defense budget and trying to get the biggest portion allotted to their men. So, the main army was underfunded, and made up of strong national divisions. Strong national divisionry isn't a problem in a well-run army. The Russian army had a similar make-up, and when competently led, such as in the Brusilov offensive, the man-power and unity of a multi-national fighting force is insane. Unfortunately, the Austrian officers (like Prussia, Austria tended to have the lion's share of command positions in their army, unlike Prussia, however, Austria did not reward free thinkers who ignored pre-planned tactics in favor of winning) thought they were fighting in the same wars that their fathers had fought (Prussia adds: and lost). This meant that there were a lot of charges and battles based on tactics that no longer worked for modern warfare. So, soldiers who were rather tired of either losing, being used as footstools, or cannon fodder depending on the feelings of their officers, had a tendency to kill their commanders and then break down into units on national lines, and retreat before they were either killed by the Russians, or the German army found out. Those Germans weren't so hot on insubordination.
This meant, however, that by the time the Russians reached the Carpathians they were filled with angry Hungarian troops who knew the terrain and made the mountains unassailable. Hungarians on their own ground without stupid officers generally meant a lot of dead Russians at the end of the day. The Offensive by that time was petering out, and the Russian army felt, having made as much ground as they could, that turning their divisions to Serbia was the best move, because Hungary was too tough. It should be noted that Brusilov's tactics were not copied by his Russian contemporaries. But the German observers with the Austro-Hungarian army took notes, and nearly destroyed France with them less than a month later.
Chapter 6: That Which is Defeated
September 1916 - Carpathians, Austro-Hungarian Empire (Modern day Ukraine)
Russia's rifle felt good in his hands. The wood was solid. It was there. It made sense. It was a weapon. That was about the only think that was making sense, however. Why was it taking so long for his army to move? They had almost won, and then this confusion that had made him walk all the way here from Kowel in disgust and frustration [1].
He had seen men slaughtered. He had watched as railways carried and unloaded Germans, all under the command of that boy he had remembered as a small, adorably naïve blond child, who now wore his nationhood like a serious cloak, a frown etched permanently on his features, and simply exuded power. Prussia had a hand in his molding, which seemed strangest of all, because whatever Germany was, he felt like someone far older, a hint of the distant past clung to him in the same way it clung to Sweden.
He felt Katyusha before he saw her. Dusk was falling, and since it was his rotation as a sentry he was looking away from the camp. The soft crunch of pine needles assailed him, and then a warm weight settled over his shoulders. He turned his head just enough to see brown leather gloves rearranging an extra coat on his shoulders.
"How is your head, Vanya?" she asked quietly, as she made the northwest end of camp the best guarded place in the world.
Having both representatives of the people here was a waste of resources, but Ivan could not bring himself to care in the early mountain evening. He smiled at his older sister, again secretly marveling that she was shorter than he was now. She had been for a long time, but it never failed to amaze him.
"It is better. And you?"
She looked into the dark green gloom. "The closer we get to Austria the more strongly I feel all of my old wounds. He has too many of my people locked up [2]. I did not think that he would be this far South. Not even the Germans have divisions here."
Ivan shrugged. "It is Magyar land. Austria's current wife is of those people."
Katyusha shook her head. "Austria is a heart-hearted man. I am certain of this. Even my people on his side do not like him. He is only with Hungary for the necessity of her power. Vanya? Are you certain that your head isn't hurting in any way?"
Russia caught the shrewd look from his sister, who was not capable of masking her worry, but certainly could tell when he was fibbing. "It was-It gets bad and then gets better. I have been thinking a lot, recently. Going to the speeches in Moscow. I think it is those that cause such storms. But a few migraines are worth it, да? I am so close, I think. These things-have words always been this strong? I see things. A future, great and glorious. Where my people are happy, as we have not been since the days after the Tartars. I am finally seeing things as I should. I think. I hope," the excitement in his voice dwindled. "I don't like some of the ideas. Katyusha, would you be able to live on your own?"
She covered a disbelieving laugh. "Oh Vanya. Oh Vanya. I have been asking to build my own house once again. Of course I would be able to live on my own."
Russia, brooding, did not see the reason for her merriment. "You needed me once. What if your house makes you think that you will never need me again? Or makes you too stubborn to come for aid? I have heard that giving houses can really delude a person. Look at what Tino has done, as I let him live on his own."
Katusha sighed, and Ivan thought he saw wind rippling through long tassels of wheat in the exasperated breath. "Oh, Vanya, we all have done far more to resist you than Finland."
The breath caught in Ivan's throat. Staring down at his little sister's body, and seeing it for the first time. No. No. He had not-he could have sworn it was Poland. He had thought it was Poland. It had to have been Poland. "I trusted Tino, and he betrayed that trust. He told me as much. You all have never betrayed me. Other than Poland, but that is what he does. He is out in these mountains, too. He fights us, Katyusha. Can't you feel it? For Austria."
Unable to deny the truth of that statement, Katyusha nodded pensively. "Austria promised him freedom."
"I have, too!" Ivan knew he was being petulant, but he did not like the implications of Katyusha's words.
Shrugging her shoulders within the gray brown of her coat, Katyusha did not deny this. "He and Austria have always had a shared understanding of each other. Also, I heard that Austria convinced Germany and Prussia to agree to Feliks' demands. Even if it is all a lie, for Austria to have managed that is impressive and convincing. You know it is. They certainly have no love for him in their armies."
Russia, who had many Austrian officers in his POW camps, smiled grimly. "I suppose that it is convincing. If only the Magyar disliked him just as much, да? Then we would not have this war here, and would instead be actively helping France [3]."
Katyusha, not as well schooled in warfare, and not knowing the full extent of the lines, glanced at Ivan. "But surely, all we must do is wait for Romania to reinforce our flank, and then-oh, no, isn't Romania coming?"
Ivan glanced about, making certain that the humans were far enough away so that they wouldn't see or hear him. Then he gave a little shake of his head. "There are enough of his people here, we would have felt it. The mountains would no longer stink of Magyar alone. If he is coming, it will be later in the year. I don't understand it. Why is none of this going as expected? We break the Austro-Hungarian line, and then advance, and it is then that the fight becomes difficult. Each way that the army goes is more difficult than the last. I am now with men who must take mountains made only for goats. I feel so much confusion all the time from my humans. The Imperial Army is not confused in battle! It is great! We have not yet met a single objective since Lutsk. In July I saw my army advancing like the great wave of the Red Sea returning after God parted the waters to drown all the Egyptians. Now I'm lost in these mountains. It was supposed to be our moment of glory. The Empire was going to wake, and be a real force, like France had been."
Biting her lip, Katyusha slung her arms around him in a tight hug. "Maybe it's for the best, then. France's empire did terrible things."
Ivan grinned. "He lit Europe ablaze. Life was warm for a few moments."
Katyusha shook her head quietly, stuffing her hands in her pockets to protect against the evening air. "This isn't good for our people. I thought that you were listening to them more."
Russia shrugged. "War may not be good for our people in the immediate, but it will help us expand, and with that we will have more land to grow things on, and then we can feed more people, and have more come into our house-,"
"I thought you were thinking about giving us our own houses," Katyusha could not be sharp, because she was Katyusha. However, she managed something quite painful with her softness.
Ivan tried to think of a way to explain things without making her bring out that knitting needle point. "Ye-I am thinking about it, Katyusha."
Resoluteness gripped her mouth, which lost its easy capacity for smiles. "I do not wish to continue dealing with you as though we are strangers on opposite ends of the field, Vanya. B-but I am ready to do so. You are not the only one who goes to the speeches and demonstrations."
Russia looked away from his older sister, accidentally taking his eyes from his post, and duty. "Why must you leave me? I do not wish to be alone. It is lovely when we are all together."
"We all must grow up sometime," and the gentle softness had returned to her voice, telling Ivan that whatever was troubling Katyusha he was not the one causing it. She still loved him.
Keeping duty at the fore of his mind, Russia turned his eyes to the dimness of the trees once more. "Українська Народня Республіка [4]."
Caught in the act of twisting back to the camp, Katyusha stilled. Ivan smiled out of one side of his mouth at her. Softly, he repeated the name in the language that was not Russian, trying not to stumble over the words. "Українська Народня Республіка, да?"
She blinked, the warm but pale and much reduced orange light of the fire lighting her left side. "Vanya?"
Hoping that this gift was as large to her as it felt to him, Russia repeated the name once more, trying to mimic the tones and accent that he heard among her people. "Українська Народня Республіка. I am practicing saying it. Maybe I will have to say it a lot in times to come."
Unfortunately, Katyusha caught the use of the imperative, and frowned with obviously hurt disapproval. "I hope it will not be painful to you, having to address me as a nation."
"That is why I must practice," Russia replied, with his smile firmly in place like a mask. Suddenly, a surge in the land around them caught his attention, and both soldiers stared into the woodland. "That was Hungary, да? She must be wounded. If we get a troop of soldiers we might be able to-," Russia stopped as Katyusha shook her head.
Holding up a cautionary hand, the gentle representative of a people nodded toward the soldiers. "This has been the first night that we have dared light a fire. Give the men some time to rest, and not carry away the dead [5]. I think that we can always call them up if it appears to be only a small force, or should it just be Hungary, then we should be sufficient."
Ivan grinned, feeling the old liveliness stirring in his veins, chasing away the fogs and confusions that lay in his head. "You think like a warrior, sister."
"I wish it were otherwise," Katyusha's reply was full of Katyusha, calm love and soft wool. He was glad that nothing could really ever change her. "However, we must do the job before us."
Together, they set off through the trees and the gloom. The September air was chill, and the mountains hostile, although not actively so. Russia occasionally spared glances backward for his post. He was abandoning it, but a human would soon replace him.
An hour's worth of stalking brought them up a field filled with flowers that were dying as their season passed, through more trees, and into a beautiful valley still in the night, except for the water reflecting the light of the stars, the lake trembling in the lightest breeze. The brother and sister stuck silently to the rim of this valley, climbing over rocks and trying not to crush any vegetation under foot, just in case Hungary's energies were being used on her own land, and the broken stems would cry out a warning.
For a minute, as they began to ascend again, Katyusha paused her gloved hand brushing the rock sadly. Ivan thought of how the peaceful valley would look once they got the artillery up here. Just another blasted land filled with dead bodies. Like him. Just like him. This would become part of him, and he could not wait, even if it hurt Katyusha to think of things this way. She would learn. Oh yes. Everything was to be part of Russia. Oh yes.
Their breathing became shorter as they climbed. Then, suddenly, humans just appeared. Stepping from one slab of stone to the next, it was as though the siblings had passed some barrier, and a camp of men had suddenly appeared just ahead of them. Both lands shrunk into the shadows, astounded. Russia cautiously peered around his chosen tree, an ancient thing, barely hanging onto a near-vertical cliff face.
Magyar, almost exclusively, from the uniforms, and the languages being passed back and forth. Occasional spurts of awkward German spoke of other nationalities, but not many, and probably not Germans in of themselves. Poles, if Ivan was to take a guess [6]. Bulgaria's people, maybe? The humans were active, moving things in mysterious ways. The lack of warning as to their appearance, and the feeling of the land around them made Russia suspect that this group was being used as some sort of guard for Hungary.
He wished for a machine gun. However, he had his rifle, and ammunition. With a delighted grin, he unslung the gun, only to be stopped by Katyusha's hand on his arm. She shook her head silently, motioning that they needed to walk around these humans.
She was right, as usual. While he could kill many of the humans, there would always be more. There were always more humans. They were not as precious as nations. If he or his sister was discovered, and then killed, what would that mean for the troops? What would that mean for the campaign?
Returning his rifle to its shoulder strap with a saddened sigh, he nodded, and they began to circle around, knowing that the men would have very little idea of the lands the Easterners represented. Katyusha was probably in more danger of being spotted than he was, oddly enough. Many people in this part of the world knew her open love and delight in grain fields swaying in the summer wind. Soon they would know России [7]. Everyone knew him sooner or later. The Empire was going to be reborn and burn like a bright flame. Soon. Soon enough.
Leaving the yellow warmth of the human fires behind them, the siblings found themselves heading west, the incline now almost too steep for anything, even a mountain goat. Ivan found himself wanting to mention this to Katyusha, get her to laugh and tell him a tale of ibexes on distant peaks, the way she had once done when they were younger. So much younger.
Suddenly, yellow peeked around a rock face of thick green and purple shadows. The two lands stopped simultaneously, dropping to bellies, before crawling forward. Yes. Here she was. Here they were, Russia should say, vaguely surprised. From a small tent of slanted rocks, he could hear a soft murmur of voices. Soon, they were close enough to see two figures by the fire, one already bandaged so that a slash of white bisected what appeared to be black hair in this light, and the other, with her military shirt lifted to reveal a bloody mess of holes and raised flesh slowly knitting next to her spine. Her partner was peering intently at the hole, long tweezers flashing in the changing light as they dived in and out of wounded flesh, bringing out bloody slugs of metal, and dropping them in something that rang like a bell with each added piece of shot.
"You, ah! Ow-Really, you don't have to do this, Roderich. I'll heal on my own."
Her voice was strained, tired. Good. Венгрия [8] would fall. Must fall. They would conquer the west. Without warning his head began to hurt. Late night back in Moscow, and there was a protest in progress. A stirring speech, complaining of casualties. Ivan tried to concentrate on the enemy, ruthlessly blocking the voices of his people from his thoughts.
Austria brought forward a damp cloth. The puffy dusty rosy skin was scrubbed at, causing the wounded woman to grunt for a second, and then bite down on her lip.
The other half of the dual monarchy's voice floated on the cool air, weary and quiet. "I wouldn't be useful for much if I couldn't at least take care of this. You shouldn't have worn yourself out earlier."
"We're not going to lose to some scarf-wearing maniac," Hungary chuckled gamely. "You have to prepare if you want to win. You should be with your troops. I'll do fine on my own, I promise."
Her current doctor picked up a roll of bandage. He hesitated for a moment, and then began to wrap her back. The flickering light colored his cheeks warmly, but his rejoinder was cool and calculated. "You didn't abandon me when Lusk fell. If I did not repay you for that I would not be a good husband, now would I?"
A light chuckle. Sometimes all that could be done was laugh at the dark. "You're needed with your troops. You know you are."
"Why? So that they can shoot me again? Or I could just wait for Prussia to show up and do it for them [9]. You know I heard him asking Germany if they could switch sides and fight with the English?"
A small gasp as a bandage was tugged too tightly, and then the wry observation: "You were trying to desert the army, Austria. That sort of thing is bad for discipline."
"The time with Prussia, I was getting coffee for him because he asked me to," Austria was clearly mortified by the apparent insubordination of his allies. Russia would never let any of his children do something like that. The voices in his head rose shrilly. There was a riot over the price of bread in some small city. A woman was crying for the death of her son. A man drank away the loss of his farm.
The Empire was losing.
Ivan rose to his feet, his head cool, despite the raging headache.
"Trust him to take advantage of his standing orders. I'll have to have a little talk to Prussia about that."
He brought his rifle to his shoulder, sighting on Hungary's heart.
"There, now just let me fix this-,"
The rifle fired with a roar. CLANG! Hungary whipped the frying pan around almost as quickly as the ricocheting bullet. Without a word she rolled away from the ring of firelight, trailing her white bandage, just as Austria overturned a kettle of water on the fire, extinguishing the light. Green and purple bubbles bounced across Russia's vision, as he counted. Four. A shot to where he had last seen Austria's head. Three.
Out of the darkness, Hungary was suddenly visible, a terrible demon made of floating hair and translucent skin. She brought her cast iron weapon down on Katyusha, who fumbled for her shashka, blocking the blunt instrument with a frightened gasp. Taking the opportunity presented, Ivan roared angrily, and dashed forward, slamming his bayonet into the injured side of the woman who fought like a man with no heart.
"My sister, Австро-Венгрия [10], is sacrosanct!"
The pan slammed into the side of Ivan's head. Suddenly his green and purple vision was flashing on and off, as his mind jumped back to Moscow, and a boy sleeping tired and exposed in a door way; among the men of a camp, tiredly playing cards far from home, ready to die for his glory; with a column of Cossack cavalry marching north in the dark. He should be there. He needed to be there.
Another slam! Wham! Bonk! Hungary growled furiously, coming in close: "Saját hegyek, Orosz Birodalom [11]!"
She whirled, just as Russia discovered, bemusedly, that his body had turned to water, muscles tumbling and pooling, spreading out all over the ground, which he sunk to, amazed, and lost. He barely had the presence of mind to pull the trigger as he slumped, and Hungary struck Katyusha with the crack of breaking fingers.
Blood splashed all over his fixed smile.
Footnotes and Annotations
[1] - German observers with the Austro-Hungarian Army were rightly terrified of this offensive, and some wrote back to command that the only reason that the Eastern front was holding was because the Russian Army would basically pause, waffle at every intersection, and then choose the area where the enemy defenses were the strongest, and most impregnable, as the best place to attack.
[2] - The nationalities on the borders of the Russian Empire, such as the Ukrainians, Poles, Lithuanians etc. were caught in between the two sides of the war. Most tried to side with the group they thought was going to give them the best chance at freedom from the Empire as a reward. This led to a lot of negotiation with proto-governments on both sides, promising to give each each nationality the bigger and better pieces of traditional land, etc. The majority of Ukrainians chose to side with the Russians. The Austrians, although they let Poles into their army, were exceedingly suspicious of the Ukrainians, and administered loyalty tests. Ukrainians who failed them were locked up in prisoner of war camps and treated slightly worse than people would normally treat rabid dogs.
[3] - The Brusilov Offensive began as an attempt to distract the German Army from the Western Front and give France time to breathe. Russia and France have a complicated relationship.
[4] - 'Українська Народня Республіка' is Ukrainian for 'Ukrainian National Republic' and is pronounced Ukraïnsʹka Narodnya Respublika. This would become Ukraine's name once she was granted her own house in the treaty of Brest-Livosk, which was re-affirmed in the Treaty of Versailles. The Ukrainians thought that they were getting a really good deal out of communism, and were very gung-ho about it. Then Russia post World War Two happened to them.
[5] - Cossack soldiers in WWI had a habit of carrying their dead away from the battle lines almost as quickly as they had been slain. This helps keep the corpses from piling up underfoot, and the Hungarian whose account I was reading was very impressed with the reverence and care displayed for the dead.
[6] - As a multinational army with people coming from languages with little to no connection with each other, like Hungarian and Polish, German often became the language used to communicate between disparate groups. Not having to learn any language but your own is just one of the many perks of being the conqueror. Of course, this became a problem for Austrian commanders who could not speak the language of the men under their command.
[7] - Rossii
[8] - 'Венгрия' is Russian for 'Hungary' and pronounced Vengirya
[9] - The morale of the Austrian Army was shot to pieces. If a commander did something stupid to piss off his troops, he could easily face being killed by his own men. Often times, the commanders were smart enough to realize when the line had been crossed (usually about one meal time after the food supplies ran out, but also after losing the sixth battle in a row, and not being very understanding to troops that were gibbering their remaining wits away). So, they deserted, hoping that they were close enough to the Russian lines to get placed in a POW camp, or failing that, survive until they could get very, very, very far away from anyone who spoke German. Because the Germans shot deserters without even inquiring if they were deserting or not. This was common military practice, but it was surprising how disproportionately many Austrians died like this. They became rather infamous, actually. Germans wanted to switch sides and fight with the English rather than be allied with an army of sniveling cowards. The irony of this situation is that the English felt the same way about their French counterparts. Oh what a war it could have been.
[10] - 'Австро-Венгрия' is Russian for 'Austria-Hungary' and is pronounced Avstro-Vengirya
[11] - 'Saját hegyek, Orosz Birodalom' is Hungarian for 'My mountains, Russian Empire'
Links to Other PartsGo Back a Section: That Which Is Indomitable - Part Eight
Go Forward a Section: That Which Is Defeated - Part Two
Head over to the rant about World War One