A shudder in his carriage seat lunged the man awake. It was a surprising fact that he'd managed to find some sort of position that allowed such slumbers as such. He must have been out for a while, as the scenery outside the carriage's glass windows was far different to the previous one. Trees that he had only seen once in books and studying materials in schools was now being brought to life before his very eyes. It kind of made him feel like a child discovering Siberia for the first time. It was a vast world outside the confinement of the train, one that kept him on his toes at all periods of scanning. Flocks of birds soared overhead whilst strange forests of heat and moist were seen over the horizon, one that made him feel insignificant for once, like a traveler heading into the holy lands of the olden world.

Looking around his room, Aleyev noticed that he was still alone. It was quite a luxurious cabin that Aytre had to offer, or whoever was running the show. From all he knew, Project 914 was still much of a mystery to himself. The train had made many stops on the way, where supposed members of the team were picked up. However, Aleyev was one of the first onto the train, and by not leaving his cabin and only receiving what officers offered him from its doorway he had no visual idea of who was joining their ranks. Small Russian voices, as well as other accents that weren't distinguishable at first, all came into a close proximity before shutting themselves away in cabins of their own throughout the whole journey. For days, they'd been travelling, and Aleyev had been restricted to the inside of his living space. The only time he could make conversation was when already acquainted members of staff entered his room to fill out details, ask for biographical experiences on the frontline and filling out forms of the unknown about his appearance, tone of voice and general persona. All of them were quiet in their approach but did give him small amounts of community when they paid their visits. Several other supposed members of the Squad were allowed to walk amongst one another and talk to them during the trip, but Aleyev was isolated by 90% of the time he spent on the train. There were only a few ideas going around as to why they decided such a strange isolation, including Aleyev predicting his time spent in the "Veterans of Leningrad" rehabilitation facility made them somewhat conscious of his behavior. It was funny, though, thinking that him being alone in a room would get them results. Ever since the incident at Leningrad, he spent many days alone, crawling through the snow and rubble of a once glorious city without a single person to keep him company. It was a cycle of repetition. Friends and dead friends, coming and going. Maybe Squad 914 was going to be the same thing? He hoped otherwise...

Squad 914...The project, as others had called it. Aytre was a renowned developer for the URD who had spent his life using documents from all over the world to construct equipment of his own. Spain, Germany, Italy and Britain, all of these had been useful providers for his mechanisms. His motives and methods were entirely questionable and some found the man to be amongst the strangest of figures throughout the world; even students and apprentices of him had spent years still trying to discover what his true intentions were and how he achieved such greatness without failure. Having him lead such a daring project such as this was questionable by most, but it seemed that Stalin was on board with whatever odd plans he had. His unorthodox methods left a queasy settlement inside Aleyev's gut. A part of him wondered what he'd really gotten himself into. Was this some ruthless plan to sacrifice those who were deemed unfit for service? Time could only tell, and time was nearing its final point.

A loud screech placed itself all around him, hurting his ears slightly as the train grinded to a halt. It wasn't a painful lunge forward at all, and it was smooth in motion, but the sound was quite agonising knowing that his window was left ajar on a latch. Slowly, he waited for a complete stop before opening his eyes and looking out the window to study his surroundings. Once again, the beautiful Indian landscape was taking his breath away with every passing glance, but he remained vigilant on the more pressing matters. On the sides of their train, there was no train station in sight, no platform or connectivity to depart on. Along the rocky floors and between where the train was steering itself, a few uniformed officers, all of Russian figure, started to bang against the sides of the carriages and yell for its occupants to disband and disperse slowly where they were exiting. If anything, it felt more like a luxury trip to a gulag, but Aleyev tried to remain positive by their intentions.

"Сукин сын..." He let his mutters leave his mouth as he stood up and wandered for the doorway to his cabin. Most of the occupants must have already reached the exits as only a few officers were left in the corridors, rushing out those he could not catch the faces of. To his right, another officer stared at him with rather beady eyes whilst remaining in the upmost silence possible. "Sir, is this our destination? Are we there yet?"

"You sound like a child when you ask questions like that, Yanovich. But no, we're just collecting new batches of coal to burn from some of our contracts here. I'd say we are less than a day away from our true objective, though." In comparison to some of the other officers within the Red Army, he seemed rather pleasant for his status above the rest. Most were quite hungry with power and ensured that their troops were in line at all costs. The famous saying Not one step back was a Russian term after all. Well, it was more of an order than any saying.

Outside, the air was fresh and warm, warmer than any he'd felt before. It was refreshing in comparison to the many nights and hours he'd spent in the winters of Siberia and frontlines of Kursk. Obviously there was a downtime for the winter throughout the mid-year months, but Aleyev could never match those summers to those here in the British Raj. At least the officers had handed him a lot thinner and shorter clothing in comparison to the large wraps he usually wore. But as soon as the embrace of the heat hit him, he drew his attention away from the world for just a minute. Being the last one out of the train, he had a view like no other, seeing all of those who were in similar positions as he all gathered in one large batch. Squad 914, supposedly.

The selection was so sporadic to what his expectations had him believe. There were men and women of all nationalities seemingly dotted around every patch of soil. He saw those of the Asian descent, or rather more Southern-Eastern descent, who were possibly from the Chinese homeland or French occupied Indochina. The majority was obviously filled with Russians of the sort, but there was still a fair number of ethnic differences between those he saw. And as the folklore said, some of the women around them were probably too beautiful to be considered fully safe amongst the seas of wore-torn males. But if it were for Aleyev, he was more respectful of their appearance and general participation. Every able hand was a step in the right direction, providing they wanted to be there and had a goal of their own. Many were from countries that had fallen to the Japanese and German pursuit of the East, so it made sense that someone pulling the strings around the area would have easily encouraged their support. But then again, Atyre did state that they were looking for some of the most promising and talented individuals to recruit them. Maybe Aleyev's will to survive and protect his comrades was his talent that had peaked their interest, but other than that he was but a normal man trying to make his way through chaos.

An officer, one of the many unfamiliar ones, stood on top of a cargo crate and began to yell out the names of some Russian and European men. They were mostly bearded and more muscular than the average man, and it made sense why they were called. Large crates of coal needed to be hoisted into the train's driving mechanisms so they could make the last leg of the journey. But once those were called, he gave a minor update to the dumbfounded soldiers and guerrillas standing around.

"Men and Women of Project 914, please remain patient. You will be briefed once we arrive at our location far late into the night. We will reload the train shortly." And with that, those who were called to help began to lift such equipment. Aleyev didn't know why all of them had to be taken off the train for them to do so, but it might of been for them to have as many hands on deck as they would need. That being said, many of the idle troops were beginning to talk to one another, and so Aleyev obviously found himself looking for such conversation too. He'd been dying to speak words other than his mind's own. And that was when he saw her, standing towards the edges of the group. She looked different, far different, in comparison to the many other females of the group as she wore a uniform of another nationality, one from the other end of European soil. With blonde hair and a strange gaze, he dragged himself over as his first choice of occupation. Seeing as she was alone at that current minute, it was the best chance he would get at simply talking to someone.

"I imagine we are in the same boat, or would I be wrong in implying that?" With his instincts kicking in, he slowly raised a firm hand to provoke a handshake. Making allies early on was the key to getting out alive, perhaps. "Aleyev Yanovich. I saw the large strings of ethnic groups here, but yours was a bit too hard to distinguish. How'd you end up here?"

_@Sola

The train slowly screeching to a halt startled Milena back to the present. She sat up straight, her gaze falling upon the door leading out into the hall. Previously, she'd been occupied with memories from her past, whatever helped keep her mind occupied. The days leading up to that point were long and slightly torturous. She did her best to fight the idleness, but the book she carried with her could only help out so much. Rereading the same story with the same predictable twists did little in terms of entertainment, but that had just changed.

Milena grabbed her bag, opening the door and peaking outside. The officers in the hall were giving the order for everyone to step out of the train, and she complied. Most of the other members of the squad remained silent, Milena following suit as she stepped out onto the land. The sunlight directly settling on her face brought about an oddly calm state within her. Aside from the shuffling of feet and some words being spoken here and there, Milena could have very well been in her own little world. That is, until some names started getting called out, causing the young woman to turn around and pay attention to the officer doing the talking.

But her name was never called, although at that point, it was easy to figure out why. She stood back, watching the men get to work before the remaining troops were given an update. Well, not so much an update as a heads up. Milena sighed, although it wasn't out of frustration. It was safe to assume they were getting very close to their destination, and that was both good and bad. Once more, Milena stepped farther away from the train. She noticed some of the others started chatting amongst themselves, but she simply started walking back and forth, occasionally kicking debris from the ground as she looked down at her feet, her hands crossed in front of her. To anyone staring in her direction, she would appear to be bored out of her mind, but the truth was that Milena was busy imagining her immediate future. A great number of thoughts had suddenly flooded her mind, including those involving her new teammates. She would very soon have to rely on those strangers with her life, and it was odd thinking about them having such power and impact on her when she knew nothing about them. That's not to say they would remain strangers for very long, but she only imagined what the adjustment period would be like. From the looks of it, though, she came to the conclusion that maybe she'd be alright.

The last few days had been strange and a bit claustrophobic. The tall blond haired Norwegian born Russian soldier found his cabin to be cramped. Most likely built for someone several inches shorter. The last few days seemed to drag on and on. Filled with the occasional ration to eat as well as numerous push-ups and crunches. Anything to kill the time that wasn't rereading survival books and information on the plants and animals they were going to be encountering on this trip.

The young boy not even 18 going to a war that has been raging most if not all of his life against an enemy that refuses to break and buckle. The axis powers and Japanese empire stole the show as the world watched Briton burn and the Americas struggle along with U.S.S.R. to keep their heads above water. Australia was doing its best but without a major naval presence it wasn't looking good, soon they would have to retreat to whatever fortified positions they had.

Somehow Victor still had the suspicion that his father got him on this detail. In this Squad 914. A secret attempt to try and turn the tide of war perhaps, or a last hurrah suicide mission before they are forced to kneel before the new king. A strange predicament for sure for the young lad. He was hoping to go to Moscow with his unit only a few weeks ago.

Basic training was quite easy for him to get through, and he showed promise in learning new skills quickly. Still, he felt a bit disappointed as he was pulled aside and given his orders after watching the trucks load up his friends as they went to Moscow and the front lines. He could only hope that this was worth it in the end. At least he still had a lot to learn.

It was somewhat lonely so far in this train. Aside from the muffled voices or snores from the others that the train stopped for he had little to go off of to tell who else came along. He wondered if he would recognize anyone. Doubtful, but there was always the chance. He had spent the better part of the last few hours laying down on the floor with his shirt off. Thinking about what was going to happen next while trying to get an idea of the heat in this tropical place. At least they were given lighter clothing as opposed to their thick winter wear, it was even a lighter shade of green to an almost tan color.

The sudden jerk and scratch of train brakes got Victor up on his feet and quickly putting his uniform back on. The last thing he wanted was for an officer to catch him without his uniform on. the banging on the outside of the train for everyone to get out made him jump a little before sliding his door open and joining the few others on their way outside. All the other people on this train seemed older than he was, they all had that look in their eyes of prior combat or service in some way. The tall young man was suddenly becoming a little nervous, being forced into these social situations always gave him some butterflies in his gut.

The darker train cabin gave way to a nice sunny and a little humid air. But before he could enjoy the sunshine he had misjudged the height of the door way and with a loud 'thud' his head bounced off the top of the door. After wincing and a few laughs from the others Victor made his way to the outskirts of the group while rubbing his now red fore head. “Great first impression Victor” he whispered to himself as he noticed another younger looking girl nearby. She seemed a bit preoccupied with her thoughts to be bothered.

Stepping off the gravel near the train tracks and to the dirt below he took a moment listening for the officer to call out his name. But it never happened, apparently there were a few others that were stronger and better built for the task at hand then he was. No matter, Victor simply continued to examine the new natural landscape around him.

Kneeling down and taking a hand full of dirt he spent a few moments examining the Martian soil. It was a lighter color than what he was used too with hints of red and tan. He spent a moment just letting the soil drop from his hand and blow in the wind before standing and rubbing it between his hands. The blonde was far too busy examining the new land scape and getting adjusted to the sights and smells to pay much attention to anything else.

[+]-----------------------------------------------[+]

There was something about watching the landscape change over a span of several hours that was just so interesting to Katrina; how the landscapes changed so gradually but in drastic form and measure - it was calming. It was accompanied by a variety of different sounds all around her, the rhythmic vibrations and sounds of the train clacking along the tracks, the small whispers and snores of people in the different compartments, and just how quiet and calm the atmosphere was in the train. Eventually, she too gets bored and to pass the time she would draw a little bit in her sketchpads; they were well used and had many pages filled with intricate figures and landscapes. She found herself encapsulated in the memory of seeing hard working red army soldiers in uniform and decided to draw them.

Katrina took out some of her vine charcoal and started to make shapes visualizing as she went along, she started out with a rough shape, quickly creating an outline of what she wanted it to look like. At first it was like a white silhouette with black outlines, awkward shadows, and rough facial features and clothing, but as she continued to develop the piece, her lines became darker, the features on her drawing became sharper and the background was starting to pop into detail – three minutes into the drawing and it was starting to look more like a person but it lacked depth, which she quickly addressed it by giving him more character and giving more emphasis towards the background, the shadows, and the clothes. After an hour of rough sketching and detailing with different charcoal sticks, she came out with a product that she was happy with. A young red army man with his mosin nagant slung over his shoulder, he had a smirk on his face, the background looked like he was in the middle of a crowd shoulder to shoulder to another man in the army. She produced such a masterful art piece using only charcoal, some cloth, and her hands to get the right shades and shapes that she had visualized.

Katrina’s hands were covered with black marks from her art materials, but she didn’t care, she produced a piece she was proud of – another piece to add her collection of art. Before she knew it, the train’s rhythm slowed heavily and a loud screech followed as she lurched backwards from her hunched position facing towards the rear of the train. The sudden stop surprised her, she heard muffled yells and chatter from outside her cabin. Katrina took one look outside and it was as if she was looking at the Philippines, a tropical hue of greens, browns, yellows, and reds.

She packed her things up and head outside still wearing the USAFFE uniform she received back in the Philippines. Unsurprisingly, her outfit stood out among the rest of the rest of the men and women in their group, she took a stride towards the exit of the train and heard names being called and unsurprisingly she wasn’t among them – usually they only called the men to do the heavy lifting. She took in a few breaths of air and tied her hair into a neat pony tail before she continued outside – her hands still dirty from all the drawing she’s been doing. As she gazed out at the Indian landscape she couldn’t help but reminisce about her home. She stepped down onto the soil and scanned the faces around her, most of them were unfamiliar to her, the crew however she’s seen once or twice around the train. However, she did notice two people stand out, one man who looked much different from the Russians around him and another woman who looked as if she was in a daze. She would speak to them, but she pondered for a minute whether they’d understand English – instead she just stood there and admired the landscape and all it was worth, she put one hand on her waist and let the other hang to the side, standing with her feet slightly apart, while the corner of her lips rose to form a warm smile.

She thought that if anyone wanted to talk they’d come to her, she was usually more chatty, but she doesn’t even know if these people spoke a language she could understand. She stood there just reminiscing about the past and just how much she missed the Philippine’s warm summers like the ones here in India. In that moment she had an idea of what she would draw next, a landscape of the Philippines and how she remembers it. Deep emotions stirred as other thoughts accompanied that idea, but she kept up the smile - she didn't want to be seem unapproachable, especially to the people who she might be working with.

---

---

Sweat gathered at Yosef's brow. No matter how many times he would reach up to wipe it away, more would inevitably form. The humidity here was slowly draining all life from his body. Yosef Kaganavich was not accustomed to the heat. To try and compare the summers of Moscow to those here in India is to compare a campfire to a raging inferno. He had already rolled up the sleeves of his drab uniform and loosened the top few buttons, but it was yet not enough; Kaganavich wondered if he might catch fire if he stepped out into the bare sun for more than a few seconds.

"Why you would ever make any place so hot, I will never know." Yosef lamented quietly, a wry smile creeping over his hairy face. "Truly mysterious are your ways!"

Despite the unbearable heat, it wasn't all bad. This place was one of unimaginable beauty- like nothing Yosef had ever laid his eyes upon. Rolling hills of pure, unbroken green framed great swathes of towering trees. It was as if Yosef had stepped into another world entirely when the train passed through one of the Raj's cities. He tried to remember the details as best he could so that, when given the chance, he could paint a picture in a letter sent back to his mother and sister.

Dinah would've loved this place. She had more of a stomach for adventure than Yosef ever did. He could vividly imagine her dragging him by the hand from market stall to market stall, forcing him to eat strange foods who's names he could barely pronounce. Father would disapprove, of course- he'd worry that anything and everything served in a strange land would be non-kosher.

Yosef felt his heart ache. It was like a dagger driven straight through his chest; a burning, sharp pain that made the corners of his mouth fall heavy. He missed them all so dearly. He hadn't seen papa in nearly six years. The mail carrier had stopped bringing his letters ten months ago. It...had not been easy for Kaganavich without the guiding hand of Abram, but he'd managed to survive. He had focused on taking care of his family, and fulfilling the duty that his father left him. That, combined with the backbreaking work at the factory, had kept Yosef's mind occupied.

Things were different now. His brothers had been plucked up and forced to fight, and Yosef had been separated from his sister and mother. It had not been long since the fall of Moscow, and even less time had passed since he was forced to leave behind Dinah and Miriam, yet the impact was all the harsher. Yosef had no one to turn to anymore. No comfort to be found in the embrace of his momma- no duty in protecting his brothers and sister from the harshness of the world. He could not turn to his father for guidance.

For the first time in his life, Yosef was truly alone. He was alone and trapped on the other side of the world, so very far from home.

Then train came to a screeching halt, the shouts of officers and conscripts tearing him from his bleak thoughts. Yosef shook his head and wiped at his brow once more, rising from where he sat. He needed to get out and stretch his legs. Perhaps he could find something to do to distract himself from the burden of his own mind.

He descended from the train car, his boots smacking hard against the ground. It felt good to move on solid ground- Yosef had never been one for trains. He always felt a little sick whenever he spent too much time in one. The young man turned his gaze about the 'platform', eyeing the strangers gathered there. These were his fellow soldiers. Warriors of this 'Project' he had been assigned to. They were...an odd assortment, to be sure. They came from all over the world, with appearances and backgrounds as wide and varied as the flora he'd seen as they passed through the countryside. Many of those from Asian countries were almost alien to him- though Moscow was a large city full of all kinds of people, Yosef had never met someone from China or beyond. This would be a new experience for him.

It was equally exciting as it was frightening. The nervous recruit glanced from side to side, his hands clasping at the pockets on his trousers as he wondered how he might introduce himself to his fellows. He almost wished he had been called to help move the coal instead of being left to his own devices.

His standing about with that worried look on his face didn't last long, however, as he turned just in time to watch a particularly tall man slam his forehead against the top of the train door. Yosef couldn't help the smile that broke across his face. It reminded him of Elisha- always the clumsy sort who never looked where he was going. It was a reminder that set his heart at ease. He had to remember that these soldiers around him, despite their gruff appearances, were people all the same- they were to be his comrades in arms, so...it'd be best if he got to know them well. Perhaps he might find friends among them to fill the void in his heart.

Taking a few steps forward, Yosef approached the tall stranger. "This place is something else." He started, noticing how engrossed the man was with their surroundings. It was likely better to just ignore the man's earlier blunder, even if that was what brought Yosef over to him in the first place. "I didn't know the world could be so vibrant!" He brought a hand forward, offering it to the stranger. "I am Yosef. It is good to meet you."

---

SHACK!

The wind blew into the forehead of this young South-East Asian born soldier. Fresh, warm and lively wind blowing into the train wagon, cleansing the cabin he was in of the sweats of his comrades. Thanh knew some of these comrades had never tread anywhere beyond the snowy whites of Russia or Northern Europe before in their lives. He didn't carry too much commodity with him, so to pass time, he poured it on trying to formulate some sort of bonds with the fellows on his wagon. And thanks to these moments he dispensed, he knew a little bit of the comrades that he would be fighting with. Most of these guys were still young, innocent, having never faced bullets whizzing through the inch of their teeth every single day. And he totally get it. The Russians were getting desperate with their manpower these days. While it proved somewhat hilariously 'beneficial', as he had earned a vacation ticket to China, Russia, Siberia and now India, with some nice chows served at his boots, for free. It may remain to be history's strange story, but what could be better than that?

"Whew." Thanh wiped off the sweat from his forehead before scrambling his hand through his shirt pocket, pulling out a small wrap of paper. Speeding a few decades to come, it looked a little like a wrap for the portrait picture of someone, but it was a little too soon for that. The paper wrap, dulled and browned from age and dirt, was simply an amulet. Simple but treasurable. As crazy as it may sound, it may have been keeping him alive for the entire time, after so many times he almost threw his life away in an infantry charge. The choice to be a little superstitious and believe it or not was up to each individuals. The one certain thing is that Thanh believed in it, and it was all that matters.

He wiped off the dirt webbing on his paper wrap as the one sitting next to him took a glance at the object.

"What is it, Thanh?" He spoke in a Russian accent.

"A lucky charm, from my mother, sent before I depart for Hanoi. I can't believe it has already been 3 years since that day."

"She must have been a lovely mother. How is she?" The guy asked, perhaps out of naivety. Thanh wasn't anticipating to answer that, nor did he liked it, but he wasn't antagonizing the guy over it.

"I don't know. Three years and no words from her ever since."

The man stayed silent after the response. Before Thanh could continue the conversation, the train came to a screeching halt before stopping. The train door slid open as the order was given for everybody to come out. All of them. The hush the commanding officer of his wagon caught Thanh in a bit of a hurry, as he was hastily grabbing his equipment, consisting of a TT-32 pistol, the so widely known PSSH-41, a customary camouflaged pith helmet that he carried ever since the battle of Hanoi, and a pair of rubber sandals, handmade from rubber tires. So hasty he gathered that he was hurling them all together at his chest the moment he got out, barefooted and onto the Indian dirt.

As soon as he descended onto the solid ground, as he put on his sandals, helmet and strapping his weapons, he could marvel at the brave new world he had arrived on. The heat was probably the thing he appreciated the most. He had a number of difficulties trying to adjust to the Russian Winters several years ago, but they weren't too bad. He too weren't a fan for the service boots either, because he considered it too bulky to move around. Sure, it gave me more protection against shrapnel and spikes underground, but he found sandals a lot easier to manage, carry and use. Even his uniform and helmet were his owns from the day of recruitment. Maybe he had gotten too complacent with it that he couldn't handle changing to something else. He did not know. But boy was this weather perfect for his ancient gears. Not that he wanted to see combat, but sooner or later, he would.

Strange that he was not called to work unlike some of his comrades in the wagon. Perhaps the officer knew a man of his physicality wouldn't help much against that monstrous number of loads, so he let Thanh had his moments for now. It was a rare moment of free time. And he was going to enjoy it. He had spent a bit of time trying to get to know some in his wagon, but what about other wagons? He'd want to know who his allies would be. Many of whom were already forming groups, so he didn't intend to interfere with their conversations. But then suddenly, he noticed this young dark-haired lady, seemingly of South East Asian descent too. She was also admiring the scenic around her. It was quite extraordinary for a stranger like him and her. And it was rather a surprise to see so many young ladies in the battlefield like this. It was quite strange to be honest.

"Xin chao (Hello)" He approached her, greeting her with his mother tongue. "Beautiful day isn't it?" He then proceeded to speak normally. "Do you speak Russian?"

[+]-----------------------------------------------[+]

Katrina sighed heavily as moments pass without anyone approaching her. She began to think that perhaps she seemed too approachable and in the moments that passed she noticed another man step down from the train, he then proceeded to interact with the other man she noticed earlier. Towards the edge of this social bubble of awkward conversations, she saw a woman who looked completely different from everyone else – much like herself talking to a red army soldier who seemed to have had his fair share of fighting.

She was about to just talk to someone regardless of what language they spoke, but out of nowhere, she heard a familiar expression, "Xin chao (Hello)", Vietnamese – a language she’s heard plenty of times. She turned to glance at who spoke and saw this east asian man who looked only to be a few inches taller than herself, he looked as though he wanted to talk to her as he continued "Beautiful day isn't it? Do you speak Russian?" She was at first a bit gobsmacked, it didn’t occur to her that some of the Vietnamese would be in squad 914. She had learned bits and pieces of Vietnamese, enough to know what people were talking about most of the time, but not enough for proper conversation – unless they could understand her broken Vietnamese. As for her Russian she was still looking for a teacher who knew enough English to be able to teach her without confusing her. The only words she’s learned so far are “Da, Nyet, Privet, and Do svidaniya”

A brief few seconds passed and she finally spoke, ”Oh, uh… No, I don’t speak Russian, it is a very beautiful day. Much like my homeland actually...” She looked back at the scenery and pondered what she would say next, this was her only interaction so far, ”You’re Vietnamese correct? I think you’re enjoying this weather as much as I am...” she turned to face him and introduced herself properly, ”I’m Katrina Santiago, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” she beamed while reaching out her hand for a shake, she however realized it was a bit dirty and added on a quick explanation, ”Don’t mind the black spots, they’re from drawing with vine charcoal.” she blushed slightly, as she let out a nervous laugh, embarrassed at how her hands looked at the time. She had no idea whether this man was the down and dirty type, she couldn’t judge just by looks alone, she could only judge through someone’s actions.

_@conscripts

---

"Yeah, I am Vietnamese. It really is good weather. At least for us." Thanh smiled as he was recognized pretty easily. Probably due to him speaking his mother tongue before he spoke normally with her. Usually, someone with no prior interaction with people like him would mistaken him for being Chinese. Sometimes, even people who had interacted would still mistaken. A thousand years under their rules and occupation, the gene pools were somewhat a little messed up. Still, they were now their allies, and that was what matters at the moment.

Katrina introduced himself as he noticed her dirty little hand, followed by a rather pretty intriguing explanation. Interesting. An artist? She may look a little hesitant on the shake. But for someone who had worked on a farm so commonly like Thanh, a bit of charcoal is a lot better than mud. "Don't worry about it. I'm too used to the dirt already." He met her hand with a firm shake, strong, for someone who farmed a lot, but not crushing. "I'm Thanh. Pham Van Thanh. You can pronounce it however you want. I don't mind." For a non-Vietnamese, it is really easy to fuck up the pronunciation. Teaching them how to pronounce correctly would be a full-time job, so he'd accept whatever they called him. As long as they were genuine and respectful, he was ok with it.

"You mentioned that you draw earlier? Are you an artist?" Thanh pushed his pith helmet up a little as he asked. "You do remind me of a lady in my village back then. She also likes drawing and sometimes would sketch the sceneries. A nice girl." He nodded in reminisces. "Anyway, where do you come from, Katrina?"

@Liotrent

[+]-----------------------------------------------[+]

Katrina wasn’t too surprised to see a Vietnamese soldier in this small elite group, she had fought through Vietnam along side them and have seen their worth as fighters. When Thanh smiled it made her day, she hadn’t seen anyone smile for the whole time she’s been out of the train, mostly it was just Europeans complaining about the heat of the tropics. When Thanh shook her hand and said, "Don't worry about it. I'm too used to the dirt already." she let out a deep sigh of relief. She had thought she made a bad impression by having such dirty hands, but it seems she needn’t have worried. Promptly after he shook her hand with a firm, confident grip he introduced himself, "I'm Thanh. Pham Van Thanh. You can pronounce it however you want. I don't mind." She was at first confused by that statement, after a while in Vietnam, she learned to pronounce the names with some degree of accuracy.

She continued to admire the view and observe the little bubbles of interaction happening all around them, the scenic view was only hampered by one thing – the yells of men and the smell of war all around her. It was then that Thanh spoke to her, asking her about a few things and even reminiscing a little about his village.

"You mentioned that you draw earlier? Are you an artist? You do remind me of a lady in my village back then. She also likes drawing and sometimes would sketch the sceneries. A nice girl." He seemed to pause just for a moment, perhaps admiring a fleeting memory, a small moment passed until finally he realized he was was nodding off, he shook himself back to his senses to ask one last question, "Anyway, where do you come from, Katrina?"

She shuffled in her boots a little, no one had thought to ask her about her being an artist, she promptly answered each question with a small smile. ”I wanted to be an artist before the war, I was suppose to be enrolled into an art school...” she paused for a moment as she looked for the right words to say, ”Then the Japanese attacked my homeland – the Philippines and I lost my father in the battle of Manila. I was only fifteen when they attacked...” Her smile turned bitter, as she attempted to keep herself together, ”I promised that I’d return to my country to free it one day… I intend to keep that promise, what about you Thanh? Do you have a personal promise to fulfill?” She said his name with near perfect pronunciation, months of fighting alongside the Vietnamese have given her at least that and a very small vocabulary of Vietnamese.

_@conscripts

Such a strange place. Most of the inscriptions or details about the jungle and its local flora and fauna seemed rather close to spot on. The young man could only guess whether his survival skills would hold up here or if the tactics he would use to hunt game back in the evergreen forests of home would prove useful here. He was sure he would have to adapt as any good soldier would when working in this theater of war. Adapt and overcome would be what his former squad leader would say. We are Russian after all maybe a little crazy is what is needed of us.

"This place is something else."

His thoughts were interrupted when someone approached and spoke out to him. Being utterly surprised while being forced from his day dreaming. Victor seemed to flinch and instinctively back away from this new man, assuming a defensive position for a moment before relaxing, “S-sorry. I uh I guess I’m still a little jumpy.” Victor stood straight and lowered his fists opting to bring his hands together nervously.

Taking a moment to breathe and regain his composure Victor couldn’t help but smile. It was something he did when he was nervous or was in trouble and normally didn’t help things much when you smiled at someone who was scolding you. “Sorry about that” he said as he took the other man’s hand.

“I didn't know the world could be so vibrant!” He brought a hand forward, offering it to the stranger. “I am Yosef. It is good to meet you.”

The other man spoke, he was taller than average but still shorter than the blond. They shared similar body types with this man’s skin being a few shades darker than his own. His hair was also a bit darker with a little facial hair. “Victor Asimov. And yeah it definitely will take some getting used to especially if we are going to be fighting in it.” He trailed off as he let the man’s hand go.

Sighing and looking around he bit his lip while staring off at the others, “I think I might be the youngest one here. I’m also unsure of why they would want to send someone straight out of boot camp on a near suicide mission…” he trailed off for a moment. “But I guess it’s better than the trenches at Moscow.” Victor wasn’t sure what he felt about this. He always had this lingering feeling that his father pulled some sort of strings, but he wasn’t entirely sure either.

The boy did see a younger girl nearby that seemed to be either bored or daydreaming like he was earlier. Everyone here was recruited to be in this squad 914 so very soon they would all be family. Best to get introductions out of the way now then have to do it under more stressful conditions. “Hey Ma’am” he said to her, still in a very formal way from his time at boot camp. She was close enough that he didn’t have to yell, “You’re always welcome to join in on our conversation. I um, I might be a bit awkward but I don’t think the two of us are unapproachable.” He was wondering what kind of roles or background these two had. Mostly so he knew who his likely battle buddy was.

A number of conversations had slowly started to take place around her. Milena heard just a handful of voices, and she could have sworn she also heard a few foreign words being exchanged from somewhere behind her, although it came as no surprise given the diversity of the various backgrounds from the people that were currently present.

“Hey Ma’am,” Milena turned her head, seeing one of the young men addressing her out of the blue. He invited her to join the conversation he himself was having with someone else. Milena smiled at his subsequent comment, noting that even though she had some height to her for a female, it didn't come anywhere near as close to his. Unapproachable? No, far from it. Intimidating? Possibly, but then again, she wasn't his enemy so she didn't have to worry about that.

"Please, call me Milena," she smiled, reaching out a hand as she spoke, "I'd rather you save such pleasantries to address the elderly, not a young woman such as myself." Milena then turned to the quiet man standing off to the side. "How do you do," she greeted him with the same warm smile, noticing his complexion was a few shades darker than hers. She took a moment to guess where he could be from, but that proved to be a losing match for her almost immediately. A number of nationalities were currently present at the moment, just waiting outside of the train before it was ready to be boarded again. One would have to be extremely patient to play that guessing game.

"If I may, how's your head?" Milena had suddenly remembered the blond's earlier blunder. She motioned for him to bend his knees to she could take a better look. "Don't worry, I'm a medic, I know what I'm doing."

Milena wasn't exactly sure why she felt the need to validate herself, but nonetheless, it always helped when the person who was under her care trusted her to do her job.

The instant response and cadence of the blonde woman instantly showed a million stories in simply its presence. Aleyev had seen his fair share of recruits, veterans and brothers on the battlefield and just by their ways of speech you could instantly understand whether or not they were settled into the war like they were born into it. For Naomi, her voice sounded as if she were conceived straight out of the steaming cauldron of the Fuhrer's kriegsmaschine. Though despite this, she still held quite an elegant stance and did not slant over the weight of this war's burdens. It was strong individuals like her that Aleyev was more expectant to see, but some of the younger individuals all around him made him once again feel sceptical of what was to come. Still, she did seem to have a minor sort of banter with him, though Aleyev honestly could not differentiate whether she was being serious or not about owing her a favor. But the grim reminder of Britain made him wonder if she truly knew the state of her home? At least she accepted his handshake, though.

"A story like that may sound indifferent to one another, but I pay attention to each detail. I can guarantee, Naomi, you and I have been through many different hardships that are incomparable to one another. We cannot forget that everyone has their own tale, no matter how similar it may sound on paper, as we cannot generalise the faces of the fallen to nameless casualties. It's what will bind us, yet draw everyone further from one another." She was somewhat right about how everyone's stories were as similar as the last guy's, but he really felt that it was the small variations, factors, characters and settings of each of those individual backstories that truly made each of them special in their own ways. A few South-Eastern natives of the Asian nations were present in the ranks; that meant that they could be driven by their annexed nations. If Naomi knew, she would want to murder every Kraut she could get her hand on, which somewhat terrified Aleyev mentally. He didn't want to see good people descend onto the levels of the Nazi Regime. Already too many comrades of his own had become violent, hysterical and dehumanised themselves into mutated monsters of their own accord. Revenge's lust was quite a tempting, yet dangerous, tool to hold.

Naomi held quite a calm demeanour when sighing, looking away upon mentioning Atyre's name. The name was obviously familiar as it was the very man he'd been following since the Squad's name had been given to him. Atyre was the stuff of legends, a maniac with an amazing track-record of inventions useful for the war effort. He remembered hearing about how all the plans for his own experimental gear was of the Spanish descendent before being Russianised for his own use. He hadn't seen it yet either, but knowing the scientist himself, it was going to be one outlandish creation that no one could anticipate. A small smirk came upon his face before he continued his speech.

"I think the whole world owes you British, not just us Russians. But in the end, everyone owes each other the prize of camaraderie and cooperation at a bare minimum. As for the...Krauts, I guess those are the Rats of Europe. But to use them here is much safer than against the Germans. In Europe, large battles will force us into submission quickly. We need to be certain that we have the downtime and assessment periods to use what we have effectively. Plus, I wouldn't be too hopeful for the Rats to make an appearance. I overheard some officers talking about garrisons of Spanish, Italian and German foes further inland..."

Suddenly, a whistle blew from the windows of the carriages. An officer, much like the ones before, held a cap out and called for all troops to head back into the train as soon as they could. It was time to head off already. At least the crew of this railed-beast knew how to work fast when given the chance. That fact made Aleyev feel a little bit more at ease with the world. Without hesitation, he placed a hand onto Naomi's shoulder and gave her a joking wink of good luck before letting go and making his way back into the carriages. It wasn't long now. They would soon reach the border...

---

A gentle tap of a gloved hand against his face brought him awake and back into the world of the living. No longer was he wandering around the ethereal fields of dreams and nostalgic thoughts. Before him, a woman in glasses stared down at him sharply and ordered for him to stand up. A small second of hesitation led for Aleyev to watch outside the window, seeing a completely different setting to the one he was used to. Sandbagged walls and thin concrete perimeters were all around them, whilst some rundown brick buildings with cracked glass lay directly opposite to the viewing glass. A large sign, spelt out in Russian, English, Chinese and other various text templates he was yet to discover read out: 'Matupi Headquarters'. Outside, many uniformed and oddly dressed individuals began to walk around the train, unloading heavy crates and other small pieces of equipment.

Aleyev slowly rose to his feet and followed the masses outside, where another burst of fresh air stroked his facial hair and eyes like the gentle caress of a loving wife. The heat wasn't as harsh as it was back in India as the nights were settling in. Artificial lights and spotting beams were spread across the encampment. Odd uniforms unlike the rest. It was clearly obvious that they were not in Matupi, as that was halfway into Burma. However, it was definitely an Indian camp known as the same name, as it was clearly the one preparing for the operational spearheads into the fallen Burmese territory to reclaim it from the Japanese. And with that, he sighed, looking out into the distance to see French, Indian, Vietnamese, and mostly Russian troops all gathering around and walking into separate buildings. Looked like this was the start to a new batch of hellish months. He hoped to God that it would stay nicely. With that in mind, he was directed towards a temporary tent and ordered to prepare for sleeping, as the next few days would prepare them for their first deployment into the lands of Burma.

_@Sola

---

---

For a brief moment, panic filled Kaganavich's chest when the stranger raised his fists- surely he didn't intend to strike Yosef?!

He hadn't the time to react before the tall man, realizing there was no danger, lowered his hands. Confusion was printed upon Yosef's face, his gaze tracing over the nervous features of his opposite. 'What in world..?' He wondered silently, trying his best to keep his misgivings from showing on his expression. He hadn't a clue why Victor would react so defensively. Easily frightened, is he?'

Thankfully the silence hung not long between them with the easily frightened and awkward soldier offering a grin and a hand for Yosef to shake. There was great strength in his grip, the Hebrew noted.

"Bah, no apology needed." Yosef waved it off, returning the grin with one of his own- wide and deep as the Red Sea. A mirthfulness played in his eyes and in his voice; the stranger's queer attitude gave Yosef no shortage of amusement. "I can understand it. I'm quite frightening!" He laughed, his hands falling down to rest on his hips as he continued with what he meant to say when he approached earlier.

Victor's size was quite intimidating at a glance, but it only took him opening his mouth for all of that to fall away. He was as nervous as a deer and jumpy as a rabbit. Perhaps it is the unfamiliar that frightens him. Yosef tried to pick it apart, attempting to understand it as best he could. I could not blame him. All of this...if I were not so excited, I'd be terrified.

Introductions were exchanged, and he was able to hear what another of his North-born comrades thought of this exotic land they'd traveled so far to get to. 'Victor...' It was not an uncommon name, and it confirmed Yosef's belief that this man had the Motherland flowing through his veins. While it would be awfully hypocritical of him to treat others of odd origins poorly, Yosef could not deny that he found more comfort in the familiar. At least he knew that Victor would understand him when he spoke! In a place as strange and far from home as Asia, he believed it important to embrace what he knew. And Victor reminded him of home in more ways than one.

Yosef's smile faltered at the mention of his home.

He was not given long to dwell on it, however, for Victor spoke up once more. Yet he did not address Yosef, as he expected; his words were pointed toward a woman wandering about not far from them. She looked awfully bored, finding conversation between her boot and the dirt rather than with any of the surrounding groups that had started to form.

Yosef was curious as to why Victor called out to her so. His words were innocent and friendly, yet it was his intentions that Yosef dwelt on. Silently he observed, hearing what each had to say and guessing at the meaning weaved in between them. Interestingly, the woman- Milena- responded first not to the content of Victor's greeting, but the phrasing. She took issue with his polite use of ma'am.

'Too formal for her, perhaps?' He wondered to himself, his own curious smile playing at the edges of his lips. 'She'd rather he use her name. To be more familiar; looking for friends and not comrades, I would wager.'

In Kaganavich's experience, people were a lot like machines. On the surface they were smooth, lacking many complicated parts. Easily understood by one who's familiarity with them was only in passing. That was a radio. This, an engine. Yet inside was a whole host of new and difficult to understand parts. Even in two separate engines everything could be entirely different; it was much the same with people. Everyone was made up differently within. Yosef had always loved taking things apart and trying to understand them. It was much the same with people.

His chance to observe was cut short when Milena turned and addressed him as well. Yosef's smile widened as he snapped back into the present. "Oh, much the same as everyone else, I'd guess. Terribly hot and tired." The Hebrew chuckled. He offered a hand to her, much the same as Victor had. "I am Yosef. A pleasure." He nodded emphatically, motioning with his palm toward the giant standing to his side. "And this here is Victor." He added, noticing that Victor hadn't given his own name quite yet, despite how eager he'd seemed to speak to Milena. Yosef had a feeling that he might know why, but he'd save his teasing for when he and his new friend were alone.

Milena went on to ask the lumbering titan about his prior...accident. She wished to know if he'd managed to injure himself on the door- it turned out that she was a medic! That caught Kaganavich's attention, his brow shooting up at the sight of her going to examine Victor's very...very large head. "Ah, so you're where I'll be getting my bandages from! Excellent!" Yosef didn't exactly have the steadiest hands, and working with things that could burn, electrocute and cut him if he slipped up...he tended to need a lot of bandages.

She was rather quick to point that out. He noted as he took a step to the side to get a better look at what Milena might be doing to their new mutual friend. Overly worried about his well-being? Or looking to prove herself? Kaganavich rarely received satisfactory answers to the unending questions he asked himself. It was more of a game to keep his mind ever occupied than any concrete analysis; Lord knows he'd proven to be wrong about many a person's supposed character before.

"We're much the same, then. Though I'm more a medic of rifles and radios." Yosef joked. "I wouldn't trust myself with fixing a person in a thousand years."

Though there was always more to say, and always more to see, time marched ever onward. They had a schedule to uphold and the officers with their obnoxious, shrill whistles knew it; the soldiers were called to return to the train so that they might continue on. "Ah. It is farewell then, at least for now. I'll see you both later- shalom, comrades!" Off Yosef went, joining the hordes in returning to their cars to prepare for the long journey that lay ahead. He had much to think on, though that was always the case. Yosef's mind was never quiet. Never satisfied.

They came upon their destination in the dead of night. Deeper into India, though the location wasn't know to Yosef as he dragged his heavy head up from the window. He'd done his best not to doze off earlier in the trip, knowing he'd have to sleep in an unfamiliar cot when they eventually arrived. Yet with the hours ticking by and no one to speak to, Kaganavich had caved, falling into a dreamless sleep.

He took his bag of meager belongings up, tossing it over his shoulder as he joined the masses. They departed the train, entering the warm night air for the first night of many more to come. Yosef looked around the crowd for Victor or Milena, hoping to speak further; yet he wasn't given time as he was pushed and pointed toward a large tent and ordered to get some rest. You don't need to tell me twice. He smiled to himself drowsily, marching toward the tent until he could collapse into some bug ridden, dirty bunk. Exhaustion would quickly take him, hopefully; Yosef did not envy those that spent the train ride resting.

---

The Vietnamese man nodded, from time to time biting his lips in sympathy to what Katrina said. It really is a tough world meant to wear people down out there. Thanh was probably one of them, although his life wouldn't be too significant. It'll just be ploughing the field, day by day, growing crops and selling it for the profit. Rinse repeat for the rest of his life. And perhaps getting a wife, a child or two and pass down that tradition. As boring as it seemed, that was what he was willing to settle for. It was beautifully simple and pure. But he knew that his life was far from being that uneventful. In fact, it was the polar opposite, much of whom weren't happy stuff.

"I do actually. A few in fact. To my mother that me and my father would both return home alive and well, in which has already been half broken. And to my village, and my country, that I would liberate them from the impudent Japanese. But as we both know, we are still nowhere near that goal." He replied, returning her with a smile, a disguised one, to turn his not so happy background into something to shrug shoulders of, or even laugh at. That was how he always handle things around. Thanh wasn't afraid to share his background, because if he could inject some, even a little bit, of feeling of sympathy and compassion in his comrades, he himself was already happy enough. "I really do wish to see those promises coming true, just like you did. Imagine our countries independent and freed, while you reunite with people you love. It must have be the best feeling in the world."

He didn't know that much about the Philippines in general, and Katrina specifically, but after hearing a bit of her background, he just felt like he knew her somehow, although this was probably the feeling of almost everybody here, desperately but valiantly trying to liberate their homelands from the fascists. And Katrina was especially typical of most Vietnamese soldiers would embody for themselves: gentleness, simplicity but courageous. He didn't know about the last one, but he guessed she had been through some of the bloods and bullets to get here, so.

"Looks like they're calling us now." Thanh briefly heard the Soviet Officers calling everybody to retreat back to their cabin as the resupplies seemed to have finished. "We all have promises. How about we promise each other too. To keep on fighting to see our promises becoming a reality. Promise?" He had his hand held out for a shake. Katrina seems like a nice girl, innocent and determined, so the last thing he would ever want to see were those images shattered away by the horrors of wars, or deaths itself...things that he had too commonly seen, but could not familiarize himself to.

---

As the train kept transporting him and his comrades deep into the heart of India, Thanh was busy looking up at the sky. The night was unusually bright, with stars, perhaps representing the hopes and dreams of this young man with a pair of rubber sandals, shining bright in the sky. Will the stars in the sky actually fades away, in the all too brutal fashion of war, by a quick bullet to the brain, or by blood and guts slowly and painfully?

Looking around in his wagon, everybody was well asleep. He vowed not to though. He had made yet another promise, and he had no intention of breaking it...

All of a sudden, the train was brought to a halt in a similar fashion to the last time it did, waking everybody up rudely. As everybody was trying to comprehend what was going on, the door slide open as an officer urged everybody to get out of the train, this time for good. He was not given any time though, as he was hushed into a temporary tent for resting, just like everyone. Thanh did not rest immediately though, as he stayed up for an hour, until one officer urged him to sleep. Judging by the attitude of the guy, tomorrow, and perhaps the days after that, would be something to anticipate.

Honestly Victor was caught off guard again but this time from the girls' response. The butterflies in his stomach began to act up again as she came closer. Mostly due to his blunder but still the blonde just smiled. Giving the girl a nod as his new friend introduced him to Milena. Victor could only wonder if these two would wind up on the same fire team as him.

This girl who so casually walked up to the two of them with confidence reminded him of his older sister. For a moment Victor caught himself thinking back to when she would come home with medical books and talking of dreams of becoming a doctor. It was her way of giving back, it was how she knew she could help. The girl had plenty of practice between the bouts of fighting that he would go through. Whether it was against his father or other kids in the city.

He seemed distant for only a moment when the girl asked him if she could check the small bump on his head. Without hesitation Victor knelt for the smaller girl. And again smiled when she said she was a medic. “You remind me of my older sister Sasha. She works in Kirov at one of the hospitals there.” He wasn't entirely sure why he decided to share that bit of information but decided to roll with it anyway.

Then Yosef spoke up about her being a medic and needing bandages then something about fixing guns and radios. “So an Engineer and a medic?” Asimov spoke up as he stood letting the medic finish what she needed to do. “Well I'm not all that great at patching people up or fixing weapons. But, if you need some covering fire to get from one point to another or need something heavy moved just ask. As long as you keep me alive and my gun keeps firing ill keep you safe. That would be a support's job right?”

The blonde kept his smile as an officer ordered them to board the train again, “Well I wish you both good fortune in what is to come and I do hope we are put in the same team. You both seem friendly anyways.” With that and a nod Asimov followed the others back onto the train taking care to duck before entering the door this time. Returning to his cabin he paused for a moment longer and looked back out the window at the alien world that would be his home for what could be the coming years. He missed the snow already.

---

The train ride was still quite smooth. Victor spent the next few hours meditating to try to calm his nerves. His family sword laid unsheathed across his legs while he focused on his breathing. The sharp sword was a reminder of home and so far none of his superiors had an issue with him using it as he was always able to show he had great skill with the blade. That and he had orders from some far off general that said he could have it. Orders he kept with him, but he knew his father had arranged it somehow. The man did have his connections.

The stars shown brightly in the night sky, the small specks of light didn't fade because of light pollution or smoke. Victor found himself staring out at the stars for some time. Memorizing their place in reference to directions like he would do in the forests back home. A simple way to tell direction when one didn't have a compass.

Slowly the scenery changed yet again as the train began to slow. The lush green jungle gave way to a broken concrete one. Asimov knew with the sudden change in scenery and speed that they were almost there and with that he set to gathering his things and placing his sword back in his bag. The only other personal item he had were a picture of him and his brother and sister when they were kids but other than the sword and his clothes he didn't carry much else with him.

The boy was ready when they were given the command to depart the train, the war torn concrete didn't give him much comfort. He could only wonder as to just how close they were to the front lines. His thoughts were cut short when he was directed to a large tent with many others. After finding a bed in the middle of the tent he found himself going to sleep quickly, hoping he would get enough rest for the coming training.

[+]-----------------------------------------------[+]

Katrina listened intently to Thanh, she felt her heart stall for a moment as she heard that the promise between Thanh and his father to his mother had been already half broken. Her mind contorted to how his mother might feel learning about his father’s death and how painful that would be as she remembered her own experience during the fall of Manila. She felt a kinship with Thanh, they both had similar promises to their homeland and their people and though he beamed with every word, she could recognize the smile of pain and sorrow, as all too often she has donned the same smile – pain, sorrow, loss, and horror veiled in a smirk. She appreciated the gesture and it showed just how strong willed Thanh was. She respects him.

A red army officer then blew his whistle that resonated a shrill, high-pitched sound through the air – it was time to leave. The officers were shouting and directing the unit back into their respective carriages, that was when Thanh grabbed her attention again. He reached out his hand for a shake and said, "Looks like they're calling us now. We all have promises. How about we promise each other too. To keep on fighting to see our promises becoming a reality. Promise?" she took his hand with both of hers and shook it once only to reply in her own tongue, ”Sige! Pangako natin sa isat-isa. (Sure! Our promise to one another.)” she donned a confident, determined expression as she let her mouth curve into a toothy grin and let Thanh return to his carriage. She turned to look at hers and marched up into it and back into her section.

[+]-----------------------------------------------[+]

It had been a few hours since they stopped to resupply, the night sky was clear and the moon and stars hung bright over their heads. Katrina slept to the sound of the train and the vibrations of the tracks until they arrived at their destination. Katrina woke to the sound of boots and yelling – as usual. She stole a peak from her window only to see a sort of outpost and all around them were worn buildings and tents surrounded by a fortified perimeter. White beams from the various spotting lights danced around the area. She grabbed her things and slung it over her shoulder and stood from her seat to walk with the sea of people inside her carriage, marching out in order, each of them directed to separate buildings or tents. She noticed that not all the soldiers were wearing soviet uniforms, some of them looked like they were from Vietnam, some looked French, some looked Chinese, etc. There were other uniforms which she could not place but they were in the minority much like herself. As she finally got to the carriage door, she was greeted once again by tropical air.

One thing began to worry her – the mosquitoes. They are normally just a nuisance, but they’ve also been known to carry diseases. Malaria and Dengue were the ones that concerned her most. U.S. troops would suffer from Dengue fever or Malaria during their stay in the Philippines, Dengue being the more violent of the two. While Malaria was not deadly in most cases, the danger was either the benign type of malaria or the malignant type which was more likely to cause death usually result in the infected person being bed ridden and taken out of action – sometimes permanently. Dengue on the other hand which is particularly dangerous because it could develop into Hemorrhagic fever that results in low platelet levels and blood plasma leakage, or Dengue Shock Syndrome where blood pressure can drop dangerously low, both of which could cause death. Katrina had heard all of this from some of the American soldiers that were fighting in the Philippines. Many dengue casualties are due to soldiers thinking the disease is something else during its developing stages and when they are finally diagnosed it’s already too late, the disease would’ve developed into its more deadly stages and is harder to treat.

She was herded into one of the tents and luckily the sleeping areas were covered in mosquito netting, her shoulders slacked as she let out a deep sigh of relief. Other soldiers began to cram into the tent, men and women alike. They were ordered to get some sleep by the uniformed officers directing them into their designated areas. Katrina had already slept on the train, she didn’t feel tired, she stared at the people around her and as the lights went out she stared into the darkness. Before she knew it, she was asleep, it was as if her consciousness was whisked away.

Milena drifted in and out of sleep through some of the ride on the way to their destination. She was sprawled out on her seat, her head occasionally leaning on the window every now and then up until the point it became too uncomfortable. At one point, the young woman cleared her throat and sat up straight, deciding at once it was best to combat her fatigue and save it for whenever she would be able to get some decent rest. She preferred quality over quantity, after all.

She was mindlessly playing with some of the tags on her bag positioned on her lap when the train loudly announced its intent to slow to a halt. Milena then looked out the window, easy to tell they had arrived by the scenery that awaited them. Using one hand for leverage, she stood up waited for the train to come to a complete stop. Then, on cue, her and the rest of the crew were ordered to head outside. She stepped down and noticed the sign. Matupi Headquarters.

Following the others, Milena quietly made her way to a large tent where they would be settling in for the night. She picked a cot on the far end of the tent, putting her stuff down before eventually sitting down to remove her boots. Her uniform still on, Milena tried to make herself as comfortable as possible before she shut her eyes in an attempt to sleep. Despite the fact that she was rather tired, she wondered what the next day would bring, her curiosity getting the better of her at such an inconvenient time.

Days began to pass. The mirage that was Matupi Headquarters was rather quiet, despite the constant bustle of troops coming in and out of the base. It was a strange sight to behold. No gunshots could be heard, ever, and the tranquillity was peacefully settling itself amongst Aleyev's mind. It was a nice change considering the sounds of cackled gunfire was now a distant fear from back in Leningrad. But to remind everyone that they were in fact at war and not on some shoddy holiday more than a hundred bodies were being wheeled in by strange mechanical beasts. Trucks, walking mechanised civilian transports and man-made stretchers were carrying the masses inside, mixing the dead and the severely injured together. This was the result of the outer-fighting in Burma, the place where this Indochinese conflict was building up. Most of those brought inside were Indian, of course, still fighting under the banner of the Allied Nations.

Aleyev would look outside his room's windows to see the groups be brought in almost every day. It was quite saddening to know that this much life could be expended, and from a Russian's point of view this was an unpopular opinion. Out of all the few years he spent in combat he had seen a large waste of life day in and day out. On the European frontline, there had been a vast selection of charges that even Aleyev had to take part in, ones that showed just how powerful one another's defences were. The Wermacht had to do the same, pushing harshly onwards until the very last man was knocked down. Back then, it was no more than an after-thought, but the siege at Leningrad showed him the true meaning behind preserving manpower and life. Every officer or soldier taking command were assigned to protecting their men, minimising casualties and taking the safest option. Leningrad was the deepest turning point for not just the Russian frontline but it also played a critical part of Aleyev's evolving mind. He learnt to trust those around him and to cherish the skills others had. It made him dangerously vulnerable to suffering after losing close ones but it was crucial to make such allies. But when the troops here, in India, were being brought back, it took him by surprise to see that the loss of life from neighbouring allies was still occurring.

Most of them were Indian troops still loyal to the British movement, of course. Many Punjab Regiments from the west mixed with the whitened faces of a few British stragglers were being brought in on different truckloads. Some had burst chests whilst others were littered with shrapnel, not a glisten of life present in their fragile eyes. But what surprised Aleyev more was the diversity in nationalities present. The French were still very active here in the British Raj, more than capable of delivering some good help after the retreats of Vietnam and Siam. On top of that, there were Australian and New Zealanders all dotted around, though many were unapproachable as they were kept relatively hidden from the naked eye. Something about their secrecy made for some dashing curiosity.

Aleyev stood up and wandered around his room, dressing himself once more into the more suitable combat attire that Indochina required. Today was going to be the day that they were going out on their first mission. Ivan Stepraskovic, a Soviet officer that Aleyev himself was assigned to, had been bringing it up for the past few days. After countless briefs and training to familiarise himself with the equipment that Atyre had given him, they would be required to go on a simple scouting mission. By his side, he held a sheet of documentation that clearly stated what their mission was to go as. It was a very tame mission and felt more like something the special forces in the VDV would be handed prior to Squad 914's deployment. Little did he know that their commanding officers were very much prepared to send them out into the field to not return, finding a bigger message and picture ahead. No one could predict what they were going to find or do, but Aleyev did not find comfort in their upbringing.

A knock came on his door, to which he answered for them to enter. As instructed, a smartly uniformed man, unlike any Russian uniforms, entered with a similar weapon to another one of Aleyev's comrades. The man would proudly wear a strangely altered version of the Union Jack, a flag that had been tainted years ago by the Fascist regime. Similarly on his other arm, the letters S.O.E shone in bold thread.

"Corporal Yanovich, correct?" His accent held a strange manner of politeness and fomrality yet still retained the brutish tone of experience from his time in the war. Upon the bridge of his nose sat a dirty pair of glasses that seemed rather uncomfortable, judging the blisters upon where it sat. "I mean, of course you are. I do have your photograph here, after all."

"We do not go by ranks here, anymore. I only go by my role and name."

"So I have to call you Specialist Yanovich then? Seems a bit peculiar, this whole Russian business, but who am I to judge. Anyway, I wanted to collect you for further testing for your experimental gear. You are due to head out on your mission in, like, two hours so we need to go through some last minute checks. Oh, and can you also direct me to a woman named...Naomi Robinson. An old comrade of mine, worked for me back in Britain in the first years. I just wanted to pop in and see her."

Aleyev silently pointed towards her door before leaving. Today was going to be a tough day, now that he had to find his place within Squad 914, make odds with the comrades he was due to work with and ultimately become the very best he could. Hopefully the scoundrels beyond the fort's walls were not expecting them as much as he hoped they weren't.