Our Violins are guns, conducting from Hell.
The cacophony of gunfire was like music to Viktor. Each shot a note, each weapon a crucial instrument in the grand orchestral battle. As dirt kicked up around them, he barely even flinched, focusing on using his shots to keep the enemy from closing in, the surrounding foliage making his chosen weapon not very useful for much else. When the order came to increase fire, Viktor's firing was less rapid-pace than the others, with his Saiga's magazines holding only 20 shells. Nonetheless, he worked to make every shell count, his magazine empty by the time the order to cease fire came around. Viktor took the opportunity to duck down behind a tree, quickly switching to a fresh magazine.
"Bezrodny, make sure your boys and girls are as fresh as can be. I want you to form a firing line to my left." Viktor heard the squad leader for second squad, Hedberg, call out to him "I don’t like putting bullets in wounded, but this isn’t earth, they ain't human and they won’t afford us any of the same courtesy. So we follow lead, put down anything that looks like it is gonna even consider getting up. See if you can find anything useful as well, any observations you make, note them down, remember them. It could save you in the future."
"Understood, sir." Viktor acknowledged, shifting his focus to the rest of C team. He signaled for them to form a firing line to the left of Hedberg, himself taking position as forward as possible, to give his weapon a bit more purpose. His hand gripped tightly around both the foregrip and the pistol grip of his weapon, finger resting above the trigger, Viktor couldn't help but feel the most at home he had in years.