Snippet #1643734

As Emil drove on out on the african plains, he became bored. The plains seemed endless, and even when it seemed that he was getting somewhere, he wasn't.

"Don't worry Emil, it'll be fun to go to the military academy!" He mimicked his mother.
"Yes son. You'll walk in a child, and come out a man." He then mimicked his father.
"Just like your forefathers!" He said, his voice wringed into a mock unison.

"Fuck this place!" He then burst out. "The food is crap, there's no clean water, I'm low on provisions and I'm freaking alone in the wasteland!"
He felt like banging his head into the steering wheel, but as by a second thought he decided against it.
"All of this just for the sake of a fucking 'Forefather'!? Who cares for the dead anyways? I mean, the man lived 300 years ago god damn it!"
He sat in silence for a short moment, then his brows creased. "I seriously got to stop talking to myself."

He drove on in silence. Then he began whisteling. Then he turned on the radio, just to hear the static.
Then, suddenly, something formed in the horizon, First it was just part of the dark line, but suddenly something began rising.
Emil straightened his back, was he really close to the city now!? He lifted a hand from the steering wheel, and rubbed his sore eyes. "Blessed be this car, that IS St. Lenin!" he whispered, as if the city was of fragile crystal, that his very breath could turn to dust.

He drove on, and at some point the smoke became visible to him. "Oh shit." he muttered, as he drove onto a battered and bombed road. Again, the recklesness of the warmongers left him breathless. What about after the war!? Then this area would be unusable by those poor souls who still had to make a living here. But no, none except Emil thought about the natives, or about after the war, when the whole place would have to be rebuilt.
"Verdamte scheisse." he cursed. He hated to see the world go to waste as he walked it. Wasn't people supposed to leave it better than they recieved it?

As he arrived at the border of the battlezone, he exitted the vehicle, took of the protection capsule on the gastank, flicked up a match and lit up the jeep.
With a roaring boom, the jeep was consumed by licking flames. Quickly, the fire took hold of the easier flameable parts, such as the seats and interior, while the paint on the sides began scalding off, and falling to the ground, before turning into mouldy dust.

Then Emil turned around, and began seeking out his next target. Someone had mentioned a soviet controlled radio command, and if you wanted an army to work synchronized, then you'd have to be able to give them all orders. And what better method than to use the radio?