Soldiers With Orders

The wind was cold, bitter in the morning's first breath. The hour was five O'clock in the morning in the city of Frýdek-Místek, Czechoslovkia. The air was cold, but it was also dark, darkened by the smoke from the burning buildings and streets around the city square. Screaming, gunfire, and creaking rumblings of machinery sounded off in the distance. A man by the name of Aleš was hiding in a nearby building smoking a cigarette while peering out the window in anger. He was but a civilian and didn't need to get involved with the trivial matters of a foreign invasion. But he was a nationalist, and not like the ones invading his homelands, but rather a believer in the betterment of his own country. A belief that pulled too many chains during the fall of his country, one that ended the Svoboda of his town. Aleš was originally from Prague, the capital but moved to Místek in the Slovakian sector that was eventually to be partitioned to the Hungarians a few months ago without any family. He was alone now, and arguably with nothing to lose. Aleš was a former worker in a Skoda arms plant which was currently manufacturing the country's latest in weapons and armored technology including the prototypes for the basis of the Thirty-Eight T and another classified armor hunter. Aleš knew all about metalwork and the likes and even knew about the processes of operating a weapon since the fighting ended in the first world war. "The war to end all wars..." He muttered under his breath watching the ensuing firefight outside his window. The country had fallen, and this city was the only place of organized Czech infantrymen and resistance to the Reich's eventual consumption of the territory. This was the beginning of the new age for the man who fought so hard in the first world war. This was the beginning of the counteraction and the downfall of a man's career. This was the end of an era that found itself in relative peace within the world.