Diaries of War: Hopeless

With every moment, Khaliv struggles for life, on the frontlines of World War II, a Soviet soldier struggles to find a motivation to keep living and to keep fighting as his comrades die around him.

Diaries of a War Hero

Day 26:

It is indescribably cold. I am sick of the frontlines, I am sick of this war, winter has taken our best men, I lost the first half of this when the Germans attacked our last camp, hopefully I won’t lose this.

My family is in Stalingrad, I haven’t an idea if they are still alive, I have not received any letters for months, hopefully it’s just the snow, but most likely my family has given up on me.

Sergeant Volkhov died of hypothermia, we were unable to get him to a hospital, and on his request, euthanized him with a bullet. We have become barbarians, we are controlled by paranoia, hunger, the past, and what the future may hold.

Uncertainty is all there is for us, uncertainty of what we will return to, uncertainty of if we will win this war, uncertainty of if our family lives, uncertainty of if our country shall survive this turmoil, uncertainty of if we shall survive, and if we do, uncertainty of if we want to survive. If I fail to write again, I most likely have capitulated to the conditions.

Day 27:

Are we man or beast? This warfare has rendered me to nothing but an object which holds a rifle and occasionally fires it. I have forgot what it is like to just sit back in relax, drink some vodka with my friends and play cards. We played cards before we were transferred to the frontlines, but now, it is nothing but warfare and death, I haven’t gotten more than 5 hours sleep since we were deployed.

No letters have come in yet, I believe I know why. The Germans attacked once more in the early morning, Dimitri was mortally wounded, shot in the hip, the medic said he wouldn’t survive the night. My hopes of returning home and relaxing with my buddies from before this horrid war began have been diminished. What are we fighting for?

We retreated about two miles to the next camp, we abandoned most of our food, the camp we bunkered at barely had food and clothing for us. I begin to lose faith that we could ever defend Moscow in this state. Are the Siberian reinforcements coming in soon?

Day 35:

I have been gone from this diary for a while, too much has happened, too much fighting, too much death. We successfully repelled a German attack, and reports from command say that the Siberians have come in and are pushing back the Germans, it seems like they are exaggerating, and if not, I doubt I will survive to see victory.

Dimitri died, he seemed to be on the recovery, but on Tuesday, he passed from gangrene according to the doctors. I should have cried, I knew this man my whole life, so why didn’t I? Am I a monster? Have I become a sociopath?

Leadership tries to get us in good spirits, I would like to see them down here, with us, with diseases, little food, winter, death, destruction, sleeping with an eye open and our ears open, having dreams of being attacked that are so realistic you wake up thinking you’re in the hospital.

No, that isn’t how this works, they declare war, we die for it, we win, they become heroes, we lose, they move on, but we don’t, we die with either result. I don’t think any amount of land or any end result is worth the horror. Sure we were attacked first, but there is always compromise available.

Our CO informed us the British are to be here with supplies in 2 days, I rejoiced, I smiled for the first time since deployment, me and Ivanov stayed up late discussing plans for the post-war, discussing what we planned to do when the British arrived, we plan to meet up after the war, we plan to smoke cigars, drink vodka, and play cards, what a distant future, but it feels within my grasp.

Day 37:

The British were to be here today, they never arrived. The Germans did, they always arrive. We started with 200, we ended the day with 100, it was brutal, we retreated and the Germans captured the base, we wandered for days before finding some small Russian village, we were happy, and we were able to finally able to eat decently.

Despite our future arrangements, Ivanov died, artillery fire. Cruel irony, I hate this world, and I will hate the next just as much.

I hate the British, I hate the Americans, I hate the Germans, I hate the Italians, I hate the Finnish.

I hate Russia, I hate Stalin, I hate this country, I hate this war, I hate it all. Life shouldn’t be like this, we shouldn’t be forced to kill our brethren for distant men who will never meet nor appreciate us.

Day 43:

I have forgotten to make entries. The Germans relented on us, but the Romanians attacked, at this point, I don’t know what is happening besides what is happening here, I don’t know if we have Moscow, I don’t know if we took Prussia, I don’t know if Stalin is alive, and I don’t care.

With the 96 left, between the time before the Romanian attack and the German attack, 4 died of various ailments, the Romanians killed 4o, whittling us down to practically nothing. Khazov was killed in artillery fire, I found his head, nothing else.

Finally, what I knew would come came, I was shot, in the stomach, they try to reassure me, but I am not to be tricked, the outlook is grim at best, and I know that, so I mailed my wife a letter.

Dear Martha,

I hope everything is okay. Khazov and Dimitri died, and the sergeant, our last leader, died of hypothermia.

We were supposed to get a British supply delivery, a week ago, but it never came. I lack in letters from you, I hope everything is okay.

I suffered a shot to the stomach, and I may not survive.

With my dying breaths,

Khaliv

I lost the energy to write anything meaningful, and mailed it, hoping for a returning letter, something I would probably never live to see.

Day 48:

The doctors haven’t a clue what to do, I think 3 more soldiers died today, I don’t know, my friends are dead, our last CO was shot, I haven’t a care at this point, same story different names. Same story different place. Why should I care if this was happening somewhere else in the frontline?

I was sent to Moscow for recovery, I take that means Moscow wasn’t overrun, which I suppose is a good sign, but it will mean this war shall go on longer. For all I know, Moscow could have been defended 200 days ago and I never knew, things seem to travel slower, we seem to be out of the loop, but I don’t care, it was all the same job, sleep, eat, and kill anybody in a German uniform.

I must give the doctors credit, they are optimistic, they hope for recovery, I don’t see it happening. I await a letter which will never come, I pray to God, if he is there, I feel no God could be in the horrors of this place, that I may be able to see my family one last time, but I feel that is already determined not to happen.

Day 50:

Shalzhow, one of the comrades I made at training camp, sent me a letter from the camp, reading:

Dear Khaliv,

We dearly hope you live, we need you back in this fight you were our number one fighter, whatever thread your hanging by, you need to turn that into a spool of thread. You may not think you're gonna survive but we do. Keep fighting comrade.

We drove the Nazis away from camp, and the British finally came with supplies, we are beginning to march into Belarus. It is very cold, but we still have optimism, and so should you.

From your comrades,

Shalzhow, and the rest of camp, wishing you luck.

They’re optimism is somewhat uplifting, but I cannot share it. I shall write them back, but I will not survive and they know it, from what I’ve heard a priest is preparing to bless me before I move on to judgement in the next life.

Gangrene set in today according to the doctors, I feel my life is merely a clock, counting down, when it gets to 0, I die. The lower it gets, the more complex it becomes, and the harder it gets for it to tick.

Day 53:

I haven’t the strength to do much writing, the priest came and blessed me, the doctors, trying to stop me from hearing them, said that I was becoming infected and that the gangrene was becoming bad, I didn’t care. My wife sent me a letter back:

Dear Khaliv,

Leningrad is terrible, famine sweeps throughout and the bombing raids are non-stop, our neighbors died.

We haven't been eating much. I hope you guys can end this war. Our daughter was killed in a bombing raid a week ago and we just had her funeral.

You may have got shot, but I know you will survive, you always have, good luck.

With Love,

Martha

I had to rewrite the letter, the original copy is soaked with tears.

I suddenly want to go to sleep, I feel like I am losing control of my limbs, I suddenly feel rather dizzy, have I a fever? I have a severe headache in the back of my head that seems to radiate down my body.
If there is a you, and if these are my last words, make sure nobody shall ever have to suffer such a fate again.

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EDIT: I changed the name to Diaries of War Heroes: Hopeless, because I intend on doing a collection of three short stories.

© 2018 Chase Shockley

Author's Note

How could I make this more realistic? Also, should I write an epilogue or not?

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I like idea of bumbers,with each new,entrance into diary. Sometimes is,too hard to write about something what you don't experienced your self. Some parts looks to they are,too forced to show up informations. But you keep reader attention with new,event and,development of story. Also I will be,more know,something about other,side then just they are Germans. If you make another diary of German soldier and they somehow meet together and they realize they are,not so diffirent it will be quiet interesting. Honestly I am tired from books who refer to Germans like,some,demons. They are,humans,too and they also make heroic acts even they stand on wrong side of battle field. Keep writing cause idea is very good.