Victor found the next few days rather peaceful. The camp was set up similar to how his boot camp was and was at least somewhat familiar too him. The tall Russian was never really bored he always found something to do. When he wasn’t training on his new weapon, Victor could be found talking to some locals and the other injured. Both to keep them company and get some Intel on the terrain and fighting forces they would be going up against.

Although sometimes the others wouldn’t talk much he would still talk to them, tell them about himself. He found this to be a good way at getting out of his shell while also getting some good information. Scratching down letters to send home to love ones as well for the ones he could. Victor learned a lot this way. Learning about the violence, the unrelenting Japanese, stories of war machines and endless artillery. The boy also learned of the types of weather for the seasons, what kind materials worked well for temporary shelters, wild foods that one could eat, and ways to keep the insects away.

Although the soldiers were in a bad way, most seemed to enjoy talking to the strapping young lad. His time would also be spent practicing with the sword that was kept secured on his left hip. Some others seemed to be interested, for a little while. A few even interested in training with it. A request he didn’t mind, after all it was just one more thing to get their minds off other things.

He even found himself volunteering for perimeter patrols. He knew that he was going out in this eventually and too him this was the best way to prepare himself for the rigors of war in a tropical environment. The others that were tasked to his team seemed like good people, but he hadn’t spent all that much time with them. Other than base interactions, they all seemed to have their own lane and didn’t have much reason to interact with each other.

But today seemed like a rather lazy day for the most part. After doing his usual PT, Victor found himself going over his new gear again. Taking it apart and putting it back together, cleaning it while also going over how to deal with jams. The weapon was magnificent in its own right. Made for anti-armor purposes it was going to be fun to use in the field even if it was a bit cumbersome and heavy.

After going through his gear one last time, the tall blonde found comfort by just sitting on the ground next to his cot. His white tank top smeared with black streaks and grease. The ever present amount of sweat glistened off his brow. He found it calming to just be able to sit there and slowly polish and sharpen his family sword knowing full well that this peace won’t last forever. For the time Victor would simply do this and meditate alone until someone came to get him or wanted to talk.

---

"You got it!"

The early morning gunshots echoed into the misty cloud. It had been days ever since they arrived at the Matupi Headquarter, and Thanh had been even more active than before. By the time the next mission began, he had already known, or at least talked to, a quarter of the men in the squad. To his surprise, but not really unexpected, not many of whom were as battle-hardened or experienced like he did. Some of whom didn't even know how to use a gun properly. It seemed like the war was getting a little desperate. But in exchange, the survivor of the Battle of Hanoi didn't take it as a setback, or any source of worries. He simply accepted the situation as it was and tried his best to improve the situation. He'd volunteered to train these newcomers as extras that go in conjunction with his own training. Hopefully with his effort they could be of help on the battlefield, or at the very least get out alive.

"No no no. Don't let the ammo box touch the ground. It will be hard to adjust your aim."

And here he was, with the new bunch wanting to learn under him, as much as he could teach them.

To be honest, he didn't really expect to be such a tutor. He was intending to spend this day to try and master the technique necessary to use his new weapon. He didn't know what it was yet, since headquarter hadn't given him the full part to the weapon. All he was provided to train with was a neck-level height long metal pole to train with. Despite so, it really implied that this was a point-blank weapon, and that this would be a very dangerous task. He didn't fear danger, but he ought not to face danger unprepared.

After letting the new recruits having their moments of self-train, with the techniques taught already, Thanh went to his own corner to train with his new weapon. Or rather...incomplete weapon. He held the pole at exactly the 1/3 mark and the 2/3 mark, charged forward and lunged it at a nearby wall, twisting it around and then ran back to cover. Rinse and repeat. It was a rather very bizarre sight to watch, as some people didn't really understand what he was doing. Thanh could notice curious eyes of his peers behind him burning into the back of his hair, but he didn't pay any attention to them. Did he look crazy to them? Maybe, but he didn't care.

The night before was rough, course and filled with much distress. At first he thought it was the heat keeping him up but within an hour beyond midnight he soon realised it was a pressuring, crippling and destructive memory that kept him awake. It all started at the hour of 0100 where the echoed whispers started to toy with his sanity. For a minute he thought his room was being invaded by soldiers who were psychologically torturing him or it was just the background noise from the outside world, but there was no such thing happening around him. It was artificial, fabricated from within his own inner-sanctum. It irritated, scared and even angered him at first, making him roll around on the spring mattress he slept upon with a passion for peace. The words were not something he could comprehend or understand, sounding somewhat alienated from the beginning. When the time came for decryption to take its place, he started to recognise the fatal voices of the fallen, the ones he wished to never hear again unless he himself was to join them. Ten months of constant fighting, hiding and screaming was still freshly planted into his head, reminding him of the horrors he had seen.

The voice of a small girl, Evana, was still haunting him. She was a fragile creature, one that could not harm a fly if she wished to. If it weren't for her, Aleyev would not have fallen into his current mindset, wanting nothing more than the end of conflict, no matter who was destined to win. When the siege at Leningrad first broke out, in which the Axis powers encircled the city very quickly using their newfound allies in Finland to distract the defence force, she was left homeless, orphaned by the constant barrages of artillery, bullets and bodies piling atop of one another. Within the space of a day, she had seen more death than any child should ever dream of. It was a cruel fate for her to be bestowed upon, but Evana was simply god's plaything for cruelty and devastation. On day four, that was when Aleyev met her. He still remembered it today...

"P-Please, mister, do you have any rations to spare?" For a girl of her age, thirteen at her peak, she was definitely flourishing with intellect and brain power. She could comprehend the worst of situations and even had picked up some military terms just from being within the outskirts of Leningrad for a few days. At that time, only the centre of the city was where the peace laid, everywhere else was engulfed in fury and flame. Evana stared deeply into Aleyev's eyes as if she were his daughter all along. A glisten within her eyes had given him a warm sensation that he had not felt in a while. Her timid voice vocalised nine years worth of suffering from the world around her. She was practically born into the boiling pan and brought up in the flames it spat out. It made him saddened, truly traumatised by her experiences so far. And so, he would make sure to visit her whenever he could get behind into the calm city centre, away from the encircles outskirts of the city. Everything was starting to feel a little more relaxing, despite the bloodshed outside, but it was here that things took a darker, far more grim turn for the worst.

A cry for help. A blister on his heels whilst the boots he wore rubbed coarsely against his skin. The impulsive reckoning of of the Fuhrer's fury. All of these things were unleashed upon the city, dividing the frontlines into an unbalanced war of attrition. It became a point of the last man standing. For nine whole months, the city would be divided into sectors of control rather than formal frontlines like before. It was pocket after pocked of Soviet alliances all forging together. New squads and militia-armies began to forge as surviving citizens joined their warrior brothers and held onto life with a fragile hand. In the first hour of the fallen grace, Aleyev clutched onto Evana and ran with her, surrounded by other Russian soldiers who were lucky to escape the initial assault.

From there, Aleyev's group became Joseph's Regiment, a band of Soviet troops using Guerrilla tactics picked up by the Vietnamese-conscripts earlier that month. Led by the man of said name, they mainly took shelter in buildings, constantly fighting their ways between the streets and hiding amongst hundreds of dead bodies in order to secure safety. They were more aware than other groups as they held radios and were in constant contact with the headquarters of Moscow, which were unfortunately unable to reach them. It was a waiting game for the 2nd Shock Army to rescue them and so they waited, constantly, with Aleyev caring for such a frail and small girl. She grew fond of him and looked to him for guidance in life. Aleyev kept her close by his side and defended her from any Axis soldier that stepped near her. She even was close to getting shot in the skull before Aleyev turned into a beast, grabbing a shard of glass and digging it deep into the Italian's neck. The blood stained him forever, making Evana a bit more nervous of who she had chosen to trust.

It was on that final month, a week before the rescue army came to break them free, where the bayonet stuck deep into the girl's chest. She was caught in the crossfire, hit by a German man of youthful age without realising it. He was stunned, just as much as Aleyev was, and fell backwards in fear, seeing that he had stabbed a small girl. Aleyev cried, screamed and beat the killer with just a large brick he found on the floor. It was memories like that where Aleyev started to cry, here in the headquarters he was safely within. Aleyev, even now in the morning, wiped his eyes dry.

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

Days had passed by without any conflict. However, Katrina was not one to stand idly by when there was nothing to do. In her off time she would train her usual routine. Fire and maneuver, she was never one to stay in one place, in fact, staying in one place may doom one to their fate if they choose to do so at the wrong time. She practiced firing, moving, and reloading whenever she could – she would’ve done the same thing today, but Thanh was training a few new faces at the range, which prevented her from doing so. Watching them gave her time to think of when she was trained in the same fashion.

The year was 1942, Manila had just fallen and Katrina and her family were fleeing north of the city into the mountains and jungles. The guerrilla movement was starting to heat up and the American forces were forced to train more volunteers. Katrina was too young to join USAFFE at the time, not to mention that USAFFE only took men. She had no choice but to join the guerrillas. In an interest to give the Filipino guerrillas a fighting chance, USAFFE command gave them a man who could teach them how to use the weapons that were supplied to them as well as basic infantry tactics. His name was James Leonard; he was proficient in the local language and was quite sympathetic to the Filipino struggles.

He had little time and little resources to turn the would-be rebellion against the Japanese into proper fighting men. He felt that the young ones and the women didn’t need to fight – Katrina’s mother felt the same way. However, Katrina felt that if at least she could come back with some experience in fighting, she could defend her family like her father intended to. Her brother – Rizalino understood his sister’s choice and soon enough even their mother agreed to let her go.

Under sergeant James careful instruction, Katrina and the other Guerrillas would be studying, learning, and familiarizing themselves with basic maneuvers and light infantry tactics. USAFFE also supplied the rebels with surplus weapons if needed. He treated them with intense respect and at times acted as if this was more than just a job for him; he went above and beyond to give the group as much time as was available to him to train them. Katrina saw James as if he were a second father and at every turn when she needed his advice and guidance he was there.

Katrina noticed the young men Thanh was training and walked up to them. She eyed their technique and watched their shots with shots landing on and off the mark. She knelt down next to one particular young man who was struggling with his task and said, ”Reload…”, the man looked at her confused, someone else was training them just a few moments earlier, ”I’m just doing what I was taught to do, I-I don’t understand why I-“ his explanation wasn’t necessary – Katrina hushed him and repeated herself, ”Reload I said." The man reloaded his weapon, an SMG – the Russian PPSH if she wasn’t mistaken, ”Alright, I’ll teach you the way I was taught."

The day she first learned to use a rifle was one she could not forget. She too was having trouble hitting her marks. James noticed her determination to learn, staying in the range using up training ammunition in the process. James knelt down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder, ”Alright Kat, I can’t have you wasting the training ammunition that’s reserved for the others." She was surprised at first - she was so focused on trying to do well that she completely forgot about her surroundings. James gave her a look and lectured her a little, "Surprised huh? You gotta be careful out there, be alert, it's not just you who's gonna be in danger." He let out a sigh, and got back to what he was suppose to help her with.

”Alright listen up Kat, breathe deep and relax – pull the trigger until you feel resistance, DO NOT FIRE…” Katrina pulled slightly till she found resistance, ”You feel it?" She nodded to signal that she did, ”That’s called slack, always feel that before firing. Now aim and squeeze the trigger.” Katrina wasn’t sure what James meant by 'squeeze the trigger' and asked him about it, ”What do you mean by squeeze the trigger? Do you mean for me to just open fire?" James understood why she was confused, he took her right hand in his and explained, "Squeeze from all sides, it gives you a bit more control when you fire..." Katrina understood what he meant with his demonstration and put it into practice. She remembered to breath normally; relax herself as she aimed at her target, feel the slack, and squeezed the trigger. When the gun went off she found she had hit her mark exactly where she was aiming, "Thank you sir!" James looked at her and remembered how old she was and said, "We call it B.R.A.S.S - Breathe, Relax, Aim, Slack, Squeeze. I sincerely hope you'd never need to use it..." She watched James start walking only to pause once he had stepped away five paces to glance back at her, "Except, maybe use it to teach the others, they need it too - plus I need an extra hand."

Katrina used this memory to help this struggling soldier, "Alright, I'm hoping you understand my English well enough - now pull on the trigger until you feel a bit of resistance. Stop at that point, don't fire your weapon." He kept quiet and followed her orders, "Alright that's called slack, I want you to aim and just breathe - breathe normally, relax and calm yourself." the man took deep breaths and mellowed down, visibly loosening up, "Now, I want you to squeeze the trigger with your whole hand as if you were trying to hold on to something - don't worry about the recoil, let it flow and remember short bursts." when the recruit squeezed three shots rang out and he took a look, his shots grouped around where he wanted to shoot. Katrina gave the man a pat on the back, "Good, that's better than before." She concluded the lesson with an order, "Continue practicing, once you get it down I want you to help anyone else who's struggling - The technique is called B.R.A.S.S., Breathe, Relax, Aim, Slack, Squeeze. Never forget it. Keep in mind that you still have to handle your weapon correctly, push the stock against your shoulders and make sure it's secure, it'll keep your weapon stable when firing. When standing or crouched, make sure your stance is stable cause your weapon can and will knock you off balance if you get complacent." The recruit nodded indicating he understood and took note of everything. With that done she stood up and walked to her quarters, she paused and glanced back at him as she got to her fifth pace at the sound of gunfire. She saw the recruit putting her words into action as he tried out different stances to practice stabling himself while firing. When the recruit turned his head to notice her, he saw her ever encouraging smile. Katrina knew he was doing well and continued her way to her quarters.

She passed by Thanh to say hello and wished him well with his training before continuing on. She'd rather study up for the mission ahead instead of taking the time to talk to already busy people. Once she was at her quarters she brought out a map and their briefing papers she eyed it and studied its supposed terrain - more jungle. Burma was where their next deployment would be, she had a sneaking suspicion that the Japanese or their puppet conscripts would make an appearance to hinder them wherever possible. However, that was just her paranoia speaking, they may face some other threat, but she worried for the young men she and Thanh helped train. Would they be able to face the Japanese without faltering? She sat quietly in her room pondering this question, knowing that the people she had just spoken to may end up facing the Japanese soon enough and may not return. She feared a similar fate for those who have just come from the fighting in Europe, the Japanese and their puppets are different from their European allies - more ferocious she'd say; more like animals.

She shook herself back to reality and went on to prepare. She sharpened her bolo knife, her bayonet, and made sure her pouches were loaded with ammunition and rations - a routine she has been doing for quite some time. She decided to use the S.M.L.E rifles available for them in the Matupi Headquarters armory and familiarized herself accordingly during the passing days. The S.M.L.E. was a different beast to what she was used to, the action was different in many ways and her accuracy improved quite a bit once she learned that she could keep her eye on the sight as the bolt pull wouldn't actually hit her face - it was rather impressive really. After she prepared her things, she added another piece to her collection of her own artworks - a scene of men training for battle, still hopeful and fresh, drawn with just a regular pencil and shaded carefully with charcoal. She now understood why James said he hoped she'd never have the need to use B.R.A.S.S.

The concepts of war was mind-boggling, heart-aching and soul-tearing to comprehend. For humanity to turn its back against its brothers, holding blade and barrel to one another's throats with the intentions to kill, it made him feel sick in his stomach. And once it started, there was only one way to finish it, especially on such a large global scale. It was why Aleyev was still here, holding his PPSH-41 and holstering several magazines into his chest-webbing. If one wanted to truly end a war on this scale, they needed to kill them opposition. But even then, they would not be killed. If anything, war was now a part of human nature, falling into the categories of evolutionary advancement. He could feel it, every heart-wrenching spit that it rained down upon him. Three decades ago, his uncle, elder brother to his step-father Otto, fought in what was told to be the Great War: The War to end all Wars! Ironic, wasn't it? The ignorance of what the future held for those who thought their sacrifice would change everything. Now Aleyev, generations further down the line of a family-blood he wasn't from, he was still taking arms against the very same nations, thought different in political compass, that sought to destroy them before. He'd heard stories of how the war back then unfolded, being something that everyone was dragged into rather than something the German Reich caused, but that in itself was too hard to believe. For most of those who lived now, all they knew was to fight. All they knew was to take the blood of their oppositions and smear it across the pavements of their homelands, using it to paint a future pathway.

Once Aleyev's mother came to him, telling him about her father who also fought in the Great War. It was a tale that upset her, yet always inspired her to try and be the best she could in what she believed in. That was how Aleyev saw it too. Despite the differences they had, Aleyev looked up to a Grandfather that had fought for a side his nation was against. Damiez Yanovich, a man of honour and enrichment. A captain to what would be known as the White Guard, he fought the very Soviets that gave Aleyev life and a home. It seemed so strange and surreal that his family line, his true blood, went back as far as to be his nemesis. But it was his concepts that kept both Aleyev and his mother happy. In the Cathedral of Light, within a city once anciently called Tsaritsyn, he fought and died until his breath drew cold and quiet. It was for what they believed in. They died and held out until they either achieved their wishes or were brought to their knees trying. It was that concept that Aleyev admired. As a Russian, it was odd to see a man brought into such an aggressive nation to be against the war he fought within. Leningrad taught him that the Germans were also people, no matter what age or ideology. It was ill-fitting to have to gut the people of the same species as him. But like he thought earlier, the only way to stop violence was to remove the problem and kill it. Then again, war was natural, wasn't it? How could one man stop such violence? Well: at least he could try.

The walk outside that morning was quite dry and tedious yet filled with moisture in the air. The weather was definitely something new he had to get used to, as the winters of Russia had made him more appreciative of the cold he lived within. Even in Siberia, where forests and wooded areas somewhat similar to where he was heading existed, the snow was always there to keep him company. This unbearable heat would have to become a new adjustment to his campaign. But when rallying to the meeting point, it was time for the final brief before the self-proclaimed Squad 914 were to head out on their first operation. Aleyev had heard the briefing many times before, but there were always last minute changes to listen out for when told. Atop of a large box, a uniformed behemoth of a man stood, barking out orders until his designated experimental squad were there. Aleyev held his holstered experimental pistol close to his knees and was somewhat intrigued to try it out. But the time was only going to tell when that would be said. Besides, he had a briefing to listen to.

"Comrades, soldiers and veterans of the acclaimed Squad 914," He began, making them out to be more infamous than they already were. "Your time to give back to the world has finally began, as to this day Operation: Pale-Wolf is under its final preparations. You are to be the headway for the mainline infantry and mechanised forces of the Remnant. As discussed, you will be heading on a curved bee-line towards the Irrawaddy River, where you will prepare for an interception within our true objective, the Bagan Temples. To get there, Squad 914, us, will be tasked with securing Matupi, the true town in Burmese lands, and scanning ahead towards securing the main dockyards for the river within Bagan's area. This is your overall goal."

There were a few strange exchanges of discussion between other Russian soldiers, who were confused as to what this true plan was. Many of them were still keen to fight on the frontlines in Europe, but many of the officers in charge of the project knew that the Indochinese campaign could prove to be more sustainable for testing, seeing if their functionality could work in the extensive war against the Wermacht and their onslaught into Russia. Aleyev was somewhat thankful for being in Burma, even if it didn't make full sense to him on whether or not it was an ideal testing ground. From what he could guess, there was no way that he could face the conventional warfare that the Germans had pressed upon his skull for weeks upon weeks. The Finnish, Spanish and Italians all played their parts in trying to wipe out his homeland, even if the middle participant was more of a player against the United States. Still, it was quite a strange mission. France, the Indians, the British and the Viet-Burmese resistance fighters needed a boost in their system. It was quite an easy target if they thought about it, because Japan's concentration was on trying to maintain the Chinese borders, as well as conduct invasions along the Pacific. After all, Australia and New Zealand were still kicking them with the remnant of the Royal Navy, despite not having any major naval power native to their nation. Still, the officer started to continue his briefing, revealing information that somewhat struck Aleyev dumbfounded.

"From the Raj air forces, we have already deduced that we are facing garrisons that we were not expecting. Reconnaissance and intelligence reports from Burmese resistance fighters have informed us that we have the presence of Chinese conscripts and volunteers. Regardless of what you may think of them, they are a shoot-to-kill if they so fire upon you. On top of this, reports of armoured Italian columns and garrisoned German-Spaniard regiments have been noted, but not confirmed. Be on a sharp lookout and prepare your equipment. I want to hear of the test results, use your weapons. You're out there to test your equipment for the good of the war, let alone take Burma. Remember your true objective."

Victor’s family sword was now sharp, clean, and polished. Kept in its leather sheath and resting on his cot. The small bit of meditation was enough to calm his mind as the others slowly began to put their things together. He had already gotten his things ready the night before and every night for the last few weeks preparing for the day they were to go on their first mission.

There were a few others in the large tent with him, where others received private quarters he opted for a tent with some others. However, before long he found himself getting his uniform on and then his equipment. His load was heavy, and he was glad he was strong or the things he carried weren’t going to be much use to him if he couldn’t wield them to begin with. Slinging his experimental anti-tank gun over his shoulder and picking up his light machine gun. With his sword on his right hip, the tall blond slowly made his way out to formation.

Forming up with the others in his squad he found himself waiting for the rest to show up while another big man stood in front of them. It was only a little while longer before he began to speak of their purpose and their first offensive. Going over their base strategy it seemed like a head on push. Possibility of some trench warfare and jungle ambush tactics.

Then came the next part. Chinese conscripts volunteer and otherwise, Italian armored division which piqued his interest the most. That is what he was there for after all anti-armor. Then he talked about some German and Spanish backed regiments. Victor could only speculate that they might be there to train the other fighters and be more of a command element. He will definitely have to watch out for that, if they were there at all.

Finally, the man spoke about using their weapons. Now he had to remember how to describe and tell the engineers how the field tests went. By the encounters and stories he heard of from the wounded coming back he could only hope that they had enough explosives to destroy whatever experimental equipment had to be left behind. One of the few orders they were given with their new gear.

Victor still stood with the other members of his squad, standing in the back so that the others could see. Adjusting the new strap over his shoulder. It was a last minute adjustment that he went over with the engineers. It was a simple thing to overlook and was really just a broader strap with a bit more cushion so it wasn’t digging into his shoulder. Glancing over the others for a moment and then back to their squad leader Aleyev, he was curious to know where their particular squad would be going. However, he knew he would get his answer eventually while he waited quietly.

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

Katrina gathered her pre-prepped equipment and she made sure that everything was in order before leaving her quarters. As she came out of the shaded interior of her quarters she was instantly met with the tropical heat. It was something she was used to – that doesn’t mean she likes it. She noticed some of the Europeans looking at her baffled as to how she could wear such covered clothing; in fact, they were baffled by the very notion of wearing long sleeves and pants in the tropics. The Europeans have only spent mere days at Matupi Headquarters and already she was hearing people complain about the heat. There were those that were used to it, the French being one of the many people who’ve grown accustomed to the heat from their time in Indochina along side the British and their colonies in Asia – the most prominent being the British Raj.

When she finally got to the rally point, they were given the final briefing. It was straightforward enough, giving them instructions, supplying gathered intelligence, and reminding them of the true objective. While they were there to take the Bagan temples, their main objective was to gather field test results from their experimental weapons. Her current concern would be how the Europeans, many of whom are new to tropical climates, would react to the extremes of Jungle warfare. The majority of the people in Squad-914 have never been in a jungle, let alone fought in one. Her train of thought was once again derailed by her memories of the Japanese, though she has never fought the Italians, Germans, and Spaniards, she could almost see them as inconsequential when compared to fighting the Japanese in the jungles and tropics. Out of the three European allies that the Japanese have in the area, she knows the Spaniards the best, her people fought against the Spanish colonization of the Philippines for over three hundred years.

The Spanish occupation was nothing short of oppressive. They slaughtered many native warriors, enslaved the remaining population, put down rebellions, and eradicated much of the culture that Filipinos used to practice. Even the name of the country, 'Philippines', is a name given to them by their Spanish conquerors. Katrina could only imagine what the Spain of today could do. She could almost imagine her homeland being a Spanish colony again after the war, ruined by some sort of power struggle in Asia among the Axis. She keeps fighting, safe in the knowledge that the Filipino resistance would fight to prevent this from happening. As long as the fight for independence continues in the Philippines she will also continue to fight, after all, she has a promise to keep.