Burning Eastern Europe IV

"Ah—"

Janik's eyes flew wide, and he screamed in terror before reflexively pulling the trigger.

"Bang—" The bullet streaked slantwise into the sky.

Krzysztof had already begun reloading when he heard Janik still muttering incoherently:

"Saint Mary! Please protect Your..."

He slapped him hard across the back.

"Enough nonsense! Reload!"

"Reload? Ah, right, reload!"

Janik's hands shook even more violently. It took him a long while just to take off the powder bag, yet he trembled for ages without managing to pour it into the muzzle.

He had indeed yearned to go to war, to personally kill the invaders, but now he could not control his body no matter how hard he tried. The more he told himself not to shake, the worse his limbs trembled. And it was not only his limbs—he even felt his stomach spasming violently, as though an invisible hand were churning his insides, leaving him almost unable to breathe.

And in his mind, he could not stop imagining himself being struck by the Russians, just like Bartrowicz had been moments ago...

"Aim—"

"Fire—"

The company commander's voice rang out. Janik took a deep breath, made the sign of the cross over his chest, then barely managed to pour the gunpowder into his gun, spilling more than half of it.

Drasowicz reminded everyone to aim before firing.

The Russians in front of them were getting closer and closer. The incoming bullets were also growing denser.

Cries of agony rang out from time to time within the Infantry Line where Janik stood. Someone would fall, then soldiers from the rear ranks would step forward, drag away the corpse, and take his place in the gap.

Janik pulled out the ramrod and tried several times before he managed to insert it accurately into the muzzle. Another volley erupted