Hey /b/, I recently got back from Russia visiting family and I found something of interest to share. Sorry, no funny "sorry for bad english"- this here is just going to be some heavy feels. I shed a manly tear, and I'm not one to do so, usually.

So here goes;
>Grandfather was in the Red Army during WWII, in the Battle of Stalingrad
>He didn't make it, but a friend of his delivered a diary that he'd kept secret from the NKVD to his wife at home, in Izhevsk
>I found it buried in the attic of my Aunt's house (she took it after Grandmother passed away)
>I spent a bit reading it, hard as it was (I was brought up in Australia, so english is my preferred language. He also didn't put dates in, for some stupid reason, but it was definitely written between 1940 and my grandfather's death in November, 1942)
>Unfortunately my Aunt wanted it to stay in Russia so I couldn't bring it back with me
>I'll greentext the story it told, anyway
From this point I'll write in my Grandfather's perspective. It's easier. Ilya was his dog; pic related. It's not HIS dog, but the same breed.

>It seems so long ago that we were just soldiers
>I say just soldiers, because a soldier fights for his country, knows glory for it and has a whole bunch of ideals that guide him
>We have an ideal shoved down our throats, and there is not a scrap of glory in this war.
>People would say I was crazy if they knew I was writing this; a Commissar would shoot me as soon as he read it. But I no longer care- a release would be welcomed.
>Am I a coward for not fighting to live, to see my dear Katya again after the war? Maybe.
>Our child is due to be born soon, so I have given her that much at least. i'd suggest a name, but I'm sure no mail will reach her in time.
>The Germans are rumoured to be making another push soon- people are on edge. Should I live to see another day, then my words shall yet fill these grimy pages.

You know the drill; keep the thread bumped, because my bump limit will run out fast.