>It was just a little village
    >fifteen houses at most

    >The had been a massive battle a week earlier
    >Massive casualties on both sides
    >so many fallen, so many wounded
    >I tried to put the intestines back into a young man
    >he was screaming
    >He didn’t want to be here
    >But he answered his motherlands cries of pain
    >And now his blood was giving nutrition to the flowers growing in the field where his last rest would come

    >i couldn’t do anything to help him
    >Nor any of the others i watched die
    >But they were few of many
    >I didn’t know what their names was
    >They wouldn’t know mine if i fell either
    >I didn’t have a real name anyway

    >i sat in a house
    >not in by the window, anyone could see my silhouette
    >I sat further back by a table
    >the only thing I had to defend myself against the fascist onslaught was my comrades
    >And of course, Dasja 
    >She may be one of many million rifles looking just like her
    >but she was mine

    >And just like me, there was more to her than a rifle
    >I found her some distance from a small town called Rzhev
    >I actually thought she was an orphan or a Maiden that had lost her bearings
    >But… that was not the case
    >And now she is in my arms, in a little house and watches gray clad men walk out of the tree line

    >The orders are to hold fire until the sergeant fires

    >i follow one of them with the front sight post
    >With Dasja, I can hit a man at a two hundred and fifty paces
    >that is just under 200 meters
    >not the longest distance, but I can do that in light or darkness, and no matter of it rains normal rain or a hail of metal
    >I remembered the silence
    >it was always quiet before the shooting started
    >there was a scream and a rifle or two waking to life
    >Those who stood in the same house as the sergeant could fire just as he did, but I had to wait for the gunshots and the screams
    >Because as soon as the first shots rang out, the Germans threw themselves at the ground and had their machine gun set up within seconds

    >it was a few months ago we had started encountered hostiles with an entirely new kind of machine gun
    >It was as well made as their other guns, but it had an extremely high rate of fire, and made a terrifying sound

    >I took careful aim
    >Dasja sang again, throwing away a single bullet
    >I couldn't see very well if I hit, but the sound of the gun stopped

    >I took another life
    >I had been told my kind should only do that in my metal form
    >That I could have no opinions, not do anything unless I was made to
    >Maybe I was different? 
    >I certainly didn't look much like the rest of my kind, I stood a head above most of the men I fought with
    >At any rate I was happier having a weapon of my own
    >So I could at least influence my death if it came to that

    >I cycled another round 
    >the grass was tall, so as long as they lay down I couldn't hit them reliably
    >but I know what they do
    >The machine gun starts, and men advance to new ground
    >i hold my fire until someone stands up
    >a round hits him, my aim was a little off
    >It went too low and would hit him in the guts
    >it would probably not kill him immediately, even if his fate was sealed

    >I don't want him to suffer
    >But his leader was an enemy of my leader
    >He was instructed to kill my comrades
    >And as for me? 
    >They would kill me
    >Afterwards. After they had... augh, i shudder by just the thought
    >So I had to shoot
    >I don't regret shooting him, even if it is a regretful thing to do
    >I do regret that he had to suffer

    >I chambered another round
    >My aim was steady

    >But I saw the machine gun being pointed in my direction
    >At me? 
    >the house I was in? 
    >I didn't care, I didn't want to take that chance

    >I threw myself at the floor and listened to the bullets tearing up the window I stood in
    >I was scared, of course I was
    >only a fool isn't afraid when he is being fired at

    >in a fraction of a second, a break in the fire, I heard footsteps
    >I had another gun with me
    >A revolver with writing I didn't recognize on the side
    >It was given to my first soldier when he used me to shoot a German panzer, pinning it in place and allowed a friendly BT tank to destroy it
    >Of course, he died long ago but I kept the revolver

    >I laid down on my back, in the middle of the room with it pointed at the door
    >I had six rounds and was ready for anything

    >But something happened, and to this day I'm not quite sure what
    >Something from outside exploded, something might have impacted near me, a bullet ricochet? 
    >Whatever it was, it made me close my eyes, and lose my focus
    >It was at exactly that second the door was kicked in and a gray clad man took aim at me

    >He fired
    >I felt a stinging pain in my lower ribcage, but it wasn't enough to kill me right there
    >As he reached to chamber a new round, I fired of two from the revolver
    >one went between his lungs and one went a little lower
    >That was definitely going to be fatal
    >In sheer panic, I crawled up to the wall behind me and tore my uniform off
    >I was hit, but it was only a glancing hit
    >I bled, but I would live, I knew that
    >I even remember I thought it was strange how an 8mm Mauser projectile did as little as it did
    >So I just got some white cloth I had cleaned in a stream a week ago
    >I applied it with haste, got my uniform back on and only then realized that wasn't only luck 

    >Dasja had taken that bullet for me
    >Her stock was shattered and completely destroyed
    >I picked her up, the splintery wood stinging to my hand

    >I undid the leather sling from the ruined stock and tied it up further up, to an undamaged part of the stock

    >She was unusable as she looked now
    >I took her over my back and ran to the killed soldier
    >His rifle would serve me for the rest of the fight

    >we managed to hold them off for the day
    >At the loss of seven men, taking us down to 19, and me
    >First tend to the wounded
    >I looked over my wound, but it didn't need much more attention

    >then we looted what we could from the enemy
    >Food, maps, supplies, anything we could take
    >Then the weapons
    >As you can imagine, if any German weapon showed herself, she got treated in an almost Inhumane way
    >especially the machine guns

    >luckily for them, it's very hard to force a spirit out of a weapon. I could, they couldn't
    >And I felt some kind of sympathy for them, so I kept quiet

    >But I had a weapon of my own to tend to
    >Of course, I shouldn't have nursed Dasja out

    >She screamed
    >a bone shattering, blood chilling shriek
    >I should never had done that
    >I reached for her neck, and soon had my ruined rifle in my hands
    >I shook in fear as well
    >I had done awful things to those who stood against me 
    >But this was someone I relied on
    >someone I held close
    >I did that

    >There was blood stained on the wall and floor where she sat from her horrific wounds

    >I ran out again
    >I knew one of the privates had a soulless rifle
    >or one where the spirit had been killed
    >That stock would be Dasja’s now
    >I thought I could comfort her 
    >But I learned a very important thing

    >If the weapon is damaged, do NOT get the spirit out
    >repair first
    >otherwise, irreparable damage can be done to the spirit

    >Dasja was actually a rather bland girl
    >her hair was rather dark, eyes were brown
    >Pretty was never going to be the first word one would think if they saw her
    >Homely maybe

    >I thought I could fix her with just a new stock but… 
    >She sat there
    >in front of me
    >She tried to get up, but the sleeves of her jacket were empty

    >I took it off, revealing just a linen top
    >And there she could see it
    >the two little stumps poking out from her shoulders where her arms once were

    >I remember how she was shaking
    >how the tears were building up in her eyes
    >she was flailing her stumps and shrieking in panic
    >her legs were kicking is frustration

    >I had never comforted someone that was going to live before
    >I embraced her
    >it was uncomfortably easy to constrain her
    >I was taller than almost all of the men, and this was a little maiden
    >it took long for her to have calmed down to a slow sob in my arms
    >She cried still
    >I didn't know what to do, and I couldn't stand her soul breaking cries
    >so I took her by the neck instead
    >because the Mosin Nagant rifle looked like it used to
    >Even if the stock was a little different

    >I thought that entire day on what to say to her
    >How I could possibly redeem what I had done to her
    >I understood a rifle was there to serve the humans, to defend them
    >but I was not one
    >I looked like one, I still do
    >all my traits are that of a human
    >But at just a wish I could also become a rifle

    >But unlike all my sisters and brothers, even if there was very few of the latter, it was never enough for me
    >I had something nothing could ever cure
    >a desire, a lust for the unknown
    >It actually took me a year before someone told be it had a name
    >”Curiosity”

    >This curiosity, the desire to be something I wasn't had brought harm to someone who never deserved it

    >That night when everyone else was asleep, I made her come out so I could speak
    >she was still devestated over what she had become
    >She claimed she had no worth in this form
    >that she could do nothing

    >so I had to fill human worth into something that wasn't human
    >I tried to silence her soft words and a softer embrace but my beloved Dasja never wanted to be herself

    >I could do nothing but change perspective to keep her happy with herself

    >I said she was a new being
    >Dasja was gone, and with an added diminutive Dasjenka had taken her place
    >Dasjenka’s job was to take care of what I needed in a war
    >By day, she was my protection against the entire world, my first and last line of defense
    >By night she would keep me warm or give me what I desired
    >I lied and said that I was foremost a soldier and then a woman when I was neither
    >I said she was first a rifle and then a woman
    >that I had authority over her, and that she would do whatever was necessary to keep me in as good of a fighting condition possible 

    >Dasjenka had, unlike me, no illusions about what she was and accepted
    >From there on, until I reached the Seelow, i never had a cold night, even in the deepest winter

    >There was a term we used for those that didn’t make it to Germany, or Berlin in practicular
    >lost on the road
    >If you asked ten men in the red army in berlin where his best friend was, he would say he was lost on the road
    >Dasjenka was one of those
    >it wasn’t a mistake, no one was at fault
    >Simply, a piece of fragmentation hit her and missed me
    >nothing to prevent it, and since no one was medically trained, nothing to stop it

    >From there on, i got another rifle that i had until i stood a days march away from Berlin, it all turned around
    >I never got to Berlin
    >Instead i got Wroclaw
    >A battle just as red
    >It was held so fiercely it fell well after Berlin did
    >Two days later the war ended
    >And with that, came also the end of this part of my life
    >Eventually they found out i wasn’t from east of the urals, in a little village no one had heard of
    >I was caught, taken apart and put into a box

    >this is where another of my peculiarities come in
    >Some of my kind still have senses in metal form. Most can feel, many can hear, some can smell and a select few can even see
    >But the only thing i could sense when in that box was time
    >Which gets infuriating if you have nothing but time
    >I waited a long time
    >But in the end, it was worth it