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Snippet #2767310

located in Fuhrerreich: '43, a part of The War that Never Was, one of the many universes on RPG.

Fuhrerreich: '43



Characters Present

Character Portrait: Maria Deleanu Character Portrait: Marcus Daluth
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"If the Russians are our allies, why does the Colonel have us digging trenches?" Simmons spoke to no one in particular - eyes darting from man to man, heaving one last pile of moist, rotting earth before digging his spade deep into the dirt. Marcus kept his eyes on the dirt, daring only a small glance so as to not prompt a direct question at him. By the looks of it the rest of the unit was doing the same, so he did himself a favor and started plowing the spade harder and deeper into the ground to try and drown out boy's constant jabber with the peaceful sounds of manual labor.

Last night had been quiet, everyone celebrated - for the most part - but this morning was a different story. Orders had come down from somewhere brass heavy. It wasn't much of a surprise for Marcus that after stealing Berlin from the Soviets, the command wanted to trade in the party hats for bunkers. If he was Stalin, he'd be ripping his mustache out in anger right about now. If anyone had the right to be pissed at the Germans, it was the Reds. Not that Marcus cared for them much either, but fair was fair.

"I mean, why the need for the bunkers and holes if they are going to-

"The fucks it matter, boy?" Jeremiah spat, "how 'bout you just shut up and keep digging your damn hole?"

Simmons, his young features accented by the blazing sun, twisted his face up. Without another word, however, he went back to digging. Soon they'd have a reasonably defensible trench and after that - they'd transition to helping the tank crews shore up their armor. Then...there was nothing left to do but shit and pray, he guessed.