As he rounded the corner and looked down his street, he took heart that it appeared his father’s store was still there. But as he got closer, he saw the holes in the walls, the boarded up windows and in one case where the boards had been torn away, he saw the demolished shell inside. The once orderly shelves were overturned and scattered across the littered tiled floor. The counter was splintered up and in pieces. No one was in sight. Raising the drone up to the second floor, he peered through a window, hoping to see some sign of life. All that met him was an empty room. The furniture was scattered about, but there was nothing that indicated habitation. The curtains that his mother had made were in tatters and there were a couple pieces of clothing scattered on the floor. Dust was everywhere.
Going higher still, he peered through a window of the third floor. The upper floor had collapsed inward and had crushed almost everything. Sticking through some of the rubble, Petyr saw the remains of a dress he remembered Freda had worn when they had sat together that first night. There was something that looked like blood on it.
A seething anger swept over Petyr. Turning the drone around, he quickly made his way to one of the main streets where he had seen some Russian activity. A personnel carrier was making its way down the street. The commander was sitting atop the small turret leaning on its gun. Below him, the driver had his head out of the hatch as he drove the vehicle down the street. Swinging his drone around, he picked up speed until he came up behind the vehicle and took aim at the commander. One shot later and the young man slumped down over the gun. The driver hadn’t noticed. Petyr pulled the drone directly beside the driver and pulled the trigger again. Suddenly the BMP swerved toward the rubble at the side of the street. Careening up a pile, the BMP struck a wall and flopped over. Petyr hovered over the vehicle until the doors in the back began to open. Maneuvering behind the vehicle, Petyr made a run at the opening. As he got close, he pressed the switch to release a grenade. It flew neatly into the crowded space before it went off. The two men who were able to get outside were shot with Petyr’s drone. Petyr immediately started heading back toward another vehicle.
Ricks had watched his new young friend and saw the same things he saw. He eased up behind him. “Pete,” he said softly.
Petyr turned and looked at Ricks. There was a wild look in his eyes that Ricks had seen only in a few people. It was a look of intense hatred and retaliation. That kind of look never did any good.
“Don’t stop me, Dale. I have to do this,” Petyr said.
Ricks placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I know, but remember we are here to do an important job. We do it because we have to do it, not because it’s fun. Always keep that in mind,” he said.
The look on Petyr’s face changed. First there was curiosity, then understanding. The craziness was gone and tears began to well up in his eyes. He nodded before turning back to the screen. His aggressiveness slowed a bit, but he continued his mission.
Ricks leaned in again. “We’ll talk about it when you’re done,” he said as he made his way to the back of the room. Colonel Sanders was watching the progress from his seat.
“Ricks, we need to get back to platoon like action. The link just doesn’t show us what’s out there that well. Section off some of the troops and let them go in on their own. Maybe we can clear some of these sharpshooters and small group elements out,” Sanders said.
“Wouldn’t hurt, Colonel,” said Ricks. “House to house fighting has always been the toughest. We might need to go in ahead of our troops for some close air support of our own. These things should be pretty good at finding out where the shooting is coming from. Might also find some hidden armor or artillery we can take out before the troops get there,” he said.
Sanders nodded. “Why don’t you take that young Polish sergeant you made friends with and get the ball rolling. I’d like this to be a joint effort. Besides, if anyone gets in the way, you might need someone who can speak the language.”
“No problem, sir. I’ll get the people together this evening and we’ll see if we can get things started tomorrow morning,” said Ricks. He already knew who might be on the team and Petyr Kursov would be at the head of the list.
At the end of the day, Ricks got his team of thirty together and went over the new mission. Kursov and Fedol would lead the teams and then work together to make sure things were covered adequately. Kursov met with his team and got a few things ready before starting to head out the door for a bite to eat and some rest. He had made ten separate runs that day and the stress of the work plus the knowledge that his family was dead had weighed on him terribly.
Ricks saw him getting ready to leave and went over to him. “Care for some dinner?” he asked.
Petyr looked at him with tired eyes. “Sure.”
The two walked around two of the buildings to the mess hall set up in an old mill. The place was packed with soldiers eating. The two went through the line and Ricks led him to a table in one corner of the room.
Petyr wasn’t saying anything. He looked at the tray in front of him and didn’t move. Ricks could tell he needed to talk, but the words wouldn’t come out. “Sorry about your family,” Ricks said.
The tears began to well up again. “They’re all dead. It looked like the place had been hit by a million bullets and a few bombs. Nobody could have survived it,” he nearly sobbed.
“You don’t know that,” said Ricks. “I watched with you. There were no bodies and it looked like somebody just up and left the place. So you can’t think the worst.”
Petyr looked up at him. “My mother would never leave her home. I also saw one of Freda’s dresses covered in blood. There’s no hope,” he said quietly, almost resigning himself to being alone for the rest of his life.
“A friend of mine thought he had lost his best buddy in a battle. Most of the guys had given up on trying to save him, but my friend kept going. Turned out his buddy lived and he proved them all wrong. So I guess it depends on your attitude. If you give up, they really are dead. But if you keep believing, they may turn up alive,” said Ricks philosophically.
“How do you know this?”
Ricks smiled and took his arm. “Because I was his buddy,” he said. “So until you see them in a grave, let’s just keep thinking they are alive somewhere. Remember, this is a war and anything can happen,” he said.
A smile returned to Petyr’s face. He nodded. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “Is that what you were talking about this afternoon after I knocked out the BMP?”
“Partly. Pete, I’ve seen some good people get hurt during a war. They lost friends and relatives and tried to take it out on the enemy. Eventually they became obsessed with the idea of revenge. In the end, it ate them up. When they realized what they had done they could not live with themselves. You’re a good guy, Pete. You need to always remember that if it weren’t for the war, you would not be doing things like this. That makes what you do the war’s fault. You aren’t to blame. Then when you finally go home, you can live with what happened and put it behind you. I don’t want to see a friend of mine go mental after this is over,” he said.
Petyr thought a few minutes. He was right. For that brief few minutes he had enjoyed killing. It made him feel bad. He looked back at Ricks. “What about the ones….”
“This afternoon? Well, let’s just chalk that one up to a learning situation and leave it at that. Doing this stuff for pleasure just isn’t you, Pete. My buddy Paul once told me that people might think he enjoyed what he was doing when he killed a man, but in reality he wanted the one who sent that poor son of a bitch into battle in the first place. For people like us, it is something we have to do, not something we enjoy. We’re all basically good people. We just have to understand the difference.”