By Deborah Shrimplin
In a bloodstained meadow in the Siberian forest, the young soldier, Leonid, gasps in pain. Shot in the leg by a Red Army soldier, he feels his lifeblood flowing into the earth. He pulls his broken, battered body to the closest birch tree. After tearing off a piece of loose bark, he places it on a smooth rock. With a twig, he scratches a message to his fiancé, Natalia.
“I love you meet you in heaven.”
Leonid tucks the letter into his breast pocket, prays and crosses himself. Staring at the rustling leaves against the evening sky, he slowly loses consciousness.
Nicely done.
A man who is dying has only his faith and his love to hang on to. Very well written.
Totally sentimental crap. Also, why the anti-Communism.
How is this anti-Communism? It is a battle scene, many of which have been played out in history. How is it different from other other wars where dying men have tried to communicate their last thoughts to those whom they love?
There’s nothing sentimental for me about a soldier in an army trying to bring back an emperor.
Also given the fact that the US intervened on the side of the White Army, doesn’t predispose me to sympathy.
Maybe later.
Here’s a quote from a multi-page letter Sullivan Ballou sent to his wife Sarah in 1861 one week before his death at the Battle of Bull Run during the Civil War.
“But, O Sarah! If the dead can comeback to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or if the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.”
The author seems to have captured the spirit of this letter in 101 words. I appreciated the way she introduced details in the scene so we could picture the time frame and terrain in which this story occurs.
If one changes “Red” army to “White” army, the sentiment remains the same–a husband regretting leaving his beloved wife regardless of the army in which he serves.
I find context to be crucial in a short story. Also, at this point, given modern war and especially American war, I find that kind of sentimentality to be … whatever.
Too rigid, sweetheart. Unbend a little. It won’t hurt, I promise.