To Maya Marinshuka
The war is approaching ever closer to Moscow, the aerial Luftwaffe raids are becoming more and more frequent. The Bolshoi theater roof fell in, and the rations are getting less and less filling. The runners gave us word that the Germans are only 50 miles out from us, and approaching rapidly. There are millions of them, marching like lightning towards the city.
I have been working slave labor, digging endless trenches, setting up lots of barbed wire, and repairing buildings. I barely get sleep at night from all the raids. Luckily, me and my section all have a dugout, it's fashioned out of old metal and some wood, but it's better than nothing. A few nights ago, it was hit by a bomb and the roof barely moved, plus Sergeant Maxim takes good care of the group. He brings us a bottle of vodka every day! I'm lucky to have what I do, even in this horrid place.
I hope that the defense lines can keep them back, at least long enough for them to run out of fuel, and then I'll be able to be with you again. That's why I really want to fight. Anyway, I hope things go well in Stalingrad, the war could never hit there, it's too far out east for any sort of German to go.
S Lyubov'yu
Alexei
YOU ARE READING
To my sweetheart at home
Historical FictionAlexei, a young Russian teenager, has been drafted to fight in the second world war. However, he must leave behind his life in Stalingrad to defend Moscow. As the fighting continues, the letters he sends back get darker and grimmer, telling tales of...
