Fiction/ Thriller/ World War II

There’s a Reason I Fight For

Would you care to know it?

“So,” Stefan said. “I set the clock for one hour from now?”

“Yes,” Konstantin, the commander of their unit, was handing out water flasks to the ten soldiers clustered in the small mountain cabin they had been sharing for a year now.

Konstantin was a tall guy, towering over the rest of them, and his intellect rose to the same heights as his imposing figure. He was close friends not only with the leader of the Southern Bulgarian resistance but also with Alexey Andreev from the Russian People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs, who kept a close watch on Bulgaria’s path towards its desired future.

“You sure the Germans won’t be late?”

“You’re doubting my words?”

Stefan sighed. The German convoy with food and medicine had crossed the Western border three hours ago and was expected to pass through the mountains in an hour. Their unit was tasked to sabotage the convoy and the rest of the partisans from the area were not expected to interfere. The convoy had to reach its final destination in Romania by midnight, so it most certainly wouldn’t stop along the way.

There was no reason to question Konstantin’s calculations.

“No,” he said. “I simply…I’ve invested a lot of time in those explosives, and I need to be sure they’ll be put to good use.”

“They’ll be, comrade, they’ll be,” Konstantin reached out and patted his shoulder. Stefan suddenly asked himself if killing twenty or thirty human beings was something that could be labeled as ‘a good use’.

How about dad? If it wasn’t for the Germans, he’d be alive. Mom would be alive, too. I wouldn’t have been kicked out of my home and become a beggar at fifteen. If Konstantin hadn’t found me on the street that night, I’d be dead, too.

“The future will be different,” Konstantin’s repeated optimistic vision echoed in his mind, “There’ll be no wars anymore because there will be no possessions. When there are no material acquisitions to crave, there will be no incentive for wars.”

Stefan carefully placed all the explosives in the wooden box and held it like a baby in his arms.

“Hey, soldier!” he heard a soft, tingling voice in his ear, “Did you get your water?”

He turned to look at her. Dressed in her green military uniform, Elena smiled behind a curtain of blond strands. Her small teeth looked like pearls. Or at least like the way he imagined pearls looked: white, smooth, and shiny.

“No,” he smiled back. “Put it on my belt.”

Her hands dexterously secured the flask to the loop and then lingered on his shirt, pressing his stomach muscles.

“You’re tense, babe,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he muttered, “Konstantin’s watching us.”

“Let him watch. He enjoys it.”

“Elena!”

She had come to join their unit two months ago, an orphan like him, and they hit it off instantly. She wasn’t like the rest of the fighting girls he’d met. She was strong and disciplined enough but way more relaxed when it came to indulging in life’s pleasures.

“All right,” she blew him a kiss, “When the battle’s over!”

If we come out alive, he wanted to say but remained silent. For the last two months, he had caught himself thinking more and more often that he didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to keep on fighting. He wanted to take Elena somewhere far and get pearls for her that would match her fabulous teeth.

When the war ends, we’ll get married and live in the best house. We’ll have the best jobs, and we’ll…

Best? He shouldn’t allow this word to enter his mind. There will be nothing ‘best’ in the future. Nothing ‘better’. Only good. Everything will be good for everybody.

His rifle banging against his back and the box of explosives in his arms, Stefan followed the others out of the cabin.

The explosives were set on the stony, uneven road and the comrades had taken positions behind the nearby bushes.

Stefan cast occasional glances at Elena who lay next to him on her belly, rifle in hand, eyes squinting through the scope.

“I love you,” he said.

“Shut up,” she didn’t take her eyes off the road. The afternoon was imbued with the smell of spring. The trees behind them were blossoming, the grass was growing wild and juicy, and the bees were spreading pollen around.

Time for life, not death.

War is awful, Stefan thought. But it’s most awful in spring.

“I’m saying it just in case…”

“I know,” she kept looking ahead, “I know, stupid.”

“Do you think there’s an afterlife?” Stefan heard the roar of the German convoy in the distance. A few birds flew away from the shrubs, squealing.

They are coming. In ten minutes, they’ll be here.

“Why do you always start on such topics right before you blow someone’s head?”

Because I’m not really comfortable with what I’m doing, he wanted to say, but answered instead,

“Because I want to imagine we’ll be together there, too.”

“Oh, how I hate romantic guys!” Elena frowned. Yet, the warmth in her tone showed that she was smiling inside.

The trucks loomed before them.

Formidable trucks.

They had black, sturdy tires that easily navigated the bumpy, winding road. They had headlights that blinded him and machine gun mounds on the roofs that stared at him as if mocking him. Your weapons against ours? Are you serious?

Stefan broke out in a cold sweat. He had to blink away the salty drops out of his eyes.

German machinery. It always scared the shit out of him.

He felt a small, sure hand squeezing his shoulder.

“We’re the best unit,” Elena smiled. Those teeth. Those precious little gems…those visions of a different life…

“I have to admit that in the end, this word makes me comfortable,” he whispered.

“Which word?”

“The best.”

Coming.

Coming.

Coming.

Now…

As the trucks’ tires trampled over the camouflaged explosives, the air thundered and blasts of fire sent pieces of metal, canvas tarps, and wood flying around. Stefan pressed his body closely to the ground but he could still hear the deafening noise of destruction mixed with cries of pain and surprise. He could smell the pungent odor of burning tires. He could feel the increasing heat that made him sweat even more profusely.

Look up! Look up, you need to see Konstantin’s sign!

When he raised his head, he saw the commander positioned three meters away. A single silent nod prompted Stefan to move forward; the rest were to follow suit. They were now authorized to kill, just as the Germans below were. The Germans, however, had better rifles, and machine guns, and…

Don’t think! Look for a target and shoot!

He didn’t think. He jumped into the fire, taking cover whenever he could, among debris and people, and he looked for targets and shot. In less than ten minutes, his unit had managed to eliminate the entire crew of the four trucks. The trucks and all the provisions were now theirs. Another victory.

Heart raging in his chest like a wild animal, Stefan rushed towards Elena. She, strangely, wasn’t cheering along with the rest of them but was gazing at the other side of the road: there, where the trees sprang up immediately after the line that separated the patched asphalt from the forest. Her gaze was so intense that for a second he thought she could set another fire with it.

Why is she standing like that? What’s that expression on her face? As if she’s expecting someone…

His thoughts broke off. He stood frozen for a single, endless moment.

And then he screamed:

“Run!” he waved at the others, “Run! Behind the bushes! Run!”

Too late.

The German reinforcements came rushing in from behind the trees just when his comrades were looking around, having paused their exalted looting at the sound of his desperate voice. Konstantin jumped from the cargo bed of the nearest truck and rolled behind the remains of the wheel arch, clutching his rifle, just as the Germans started shooting.

Atanas…Hristo…Vladislav…Ivan…Lazar…

Their names echoed in his mind as he saw them falling one after the other: some dead, some only injured. The Germans took careful aim: they didn’t want to kill everyone. They especially didn’t want to kill the commander who now lay behind the wheel arch, rifle pressed to his heart, face glistening with sweat.

“I’m sorry,” Konstantin uttered through his teeth, giving Stefan a lopsided smile, “I didn’t see this coming…”

Stefan wondered why he himself was still standing, completely uninjured and able to follow the whole horrible scene. Then he realized that Elena, his beloved girl — the girl he had wanted to marry when the war was over — was standing before him, covering his body, and making confident and appeasing gestures toward the Germans.

“I’m sorry,” Konstantin said again, and raised the rifle, turning it around with one swift movement. He stuck the barrel in his mouth and pressed the trigger.

This shot was one of many, and yet the loudest one Stefan had heard since the beginning of the battle.

He made a lurching step back. His shirt, drenched in sweat, stuck to his back. His vision blurred as he set his eyes on Elena. She was still standing one meter before him, blocking his body from the group of Germans who were slowly surrounding them.

“Why?” he mumbled. The words escaped him along with a wheezy waft of breath from the cage of his dry throat, “Why did you do it?”

Elena’s lips contorted, as she pointed at their fallen comrades. Some of them groaned as the Germans pulled them forcefully to their feet and dragged them back through the forest.

“Because I don’t believe in this!” she snapped. “I don’t believe in their idiotic blabberings of a bright future! It will be simply another prison, nothing more!”

She hesitated. Stefan waited. Elena held out her hands for him, like an offering.

“The Germans promised me a house on a Spanish island,” her features suddenly relaxed and her pale face beamed just like when, during the long nights in the cabin, she and Stefan had discussed their imaginary life together, “The house we dreamed about, babe! They’ll give it to us! I told them you’d help, too, because I know you don’t believe in that shit, either. You’re just like me. We’ll spy for them for some time, and then they’ll send us to Spain!”

The soldiers had gathered around them and started talking something in German. Elena answered. Stefan glanced towards Konstantin’s body on the ground. His head was a gruesome, bloody mass, beyond recognition.

The man who saved my life. The man who was a mother and father to me. The man who never left my side during those long three years. The man who was my rock.

He blinked back a flood of tears.

They took Hristo. They took Vladislav and Lazar. What will they do to them?

His hands tightened around his rifle.

“There isn’t a just cause in a war,” he whispered, “So, I’m with you in that, Elena.” She turned to look at him, and he added, “I don’t believe in communism just like I don’t believe in national socialism or capitalism. I don’t think I have much trust in any political system.”

Her smile broadened.

“I know, babe. That’s why we…”

“But there’s something one could fight for in a war,” Stefan continued calmly, “And you know what it is?” he saw her brow furrowing and took a deep breath, “It’s family!”

He raised the rifle and before anyone could stop him, shot Elena in the head.

Then he felt a piercing pain in his shoulder as a bullet passed through muscle and bone, and he dropped the rifle, and fell to his knees, and thought, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

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