The liberation of Ivalensk

Ivalensk, near the Belarusian-Soviet border, pop: 2,000 soldiers in training, 150 civilians  

“How many are left!” shouted the Colonel, a red star on his visor hat, as he pulled his cigar out of his mouth, “I want to be gone before nightfall!!” he continued. The sky was grey, the clouds covering the crisp blue, Belarusian skies. It was a small, military city. In the middle of it stood a military church. Old, and made out of rock. On the top a large Orthodox cross made out of cheap aluminium. 

“These are the last of them sir!” shouted a small infantryman carrying a rifle much heavier than him, himself.   

“Line them up outside the Church” the Colonel said, “they should die near the house of their God” he continued. “Put the women and kids in the trucks!”

All the men, most wearing their military uniforms, stood facing the wall of the church. Many knew what was to happen, many were praying for it to not. 

“Lads! On 3… 2… 1… NOW!” the Colonel shouted. All the men dropped following the noise of the gun fire. Not a single left. Ivalensk was liberated, even though the streets of Ivalensk had blood flowing down them.