Chapter 60: Arriving in Saint Petersburg

Chapter 60: Arriving in Saint Petersburg



Gunfire echoed throughout the background, with the occasional sound of artillery fire going off in the distance. Saint Petersburg was covered in snow, the bodies of the dead lying in the streets frozen to the point where they could no longer be a matter of concern when it came to the spreading of disease.

In the months since the Tsar and his family fled the city the battle between the Red Army and those who remained loyal to the Emperor had reached peak intensity. The Reds had dug in outside of the city, with each of their assaults being repelled by the Russian Army and the Black Hundreds militias which supported them.

Despite the Reds' attempts to break through the city's defenses resulting in abject failure, and significant losses with each assault, the Russian loyalists who bravely put their lives on the line to prevent the Bolsheviks from coming in had suffered equally as dearly for their efforts if not more so.

To put it simply, the state of Saint Petersburg was miserable. But at least they could rely on imports from the Reich to keep everyone fed. Because of this, while in a dreadful state, desperation had not yet kicked in among the civilian population.

As General Anatoly Stessel stood within the safety of the city, gazing upon the enemy fortifications through his binoculars while smoking a cigarette, one of his subordinates came running up to him.

The man appeared as haggard and grizzled as the General himself, both of which were covered in mud, blood and snow, while clearly showing no signs of grooming over the course of the past month.

The young officer saluted the General while making a report to him that was sure to lift the spirits of not only Anatoly but the city as a whole.

"Sir! The German volunteers have arrived. And they appear to have brought a significant amount of heavy weapons to support the defense of the city!"

Anatoly lowered his binoculars and gazed at the Officer in shock for several moments. He was not expecting the arrival of this so called Iron Brigade for at least another two weeks. They were early. But that was not something to be disappointed about. Rather, he quickly put out his cigarette by tossing it on the packed snow, before stomping it with his feet.

There was no possibility of anything catching fire in this weather, but at this point it was a point of habit for the man. He quickly began walking in the direction of the port while shouting orders at the Officer who had alerted him to this most welcomed news.

"Well, don't just stand there! Come with me. I want to see this Iron Brigade myself!"

Bruno stood on the docks of Saint Petersburg. A cigarette was in his mouth as he lit it up, taking a hefty drag, while gazing upon the city and its ruinous state. No doubt the Bolsheviks had brought in the big guns for this siege.

In comparison, Bruno brought the smallest caliber of artillery he could manage. Primarily because of its lightweight nature, which would be most useful in the transport of the weapons.

Still, the shells landed nearby and detonated as the Loyalist defenders quickly ran for cover. Even the Russian General by Bruno's side scurried off like a rat, at least until he saw Bruno just standing there smoking while gazing up at the shrapnel and snow both of which fell from the

sky.

Once he saw that Bruno wasn't remotely shaken by the thunder of the guns whose shells were detonating nearby, the Russian general returned to his side. And shortly after that, the shells

stopped firing.

In the accompanying silence, Bruno chuckled before flicking his cigarette into the snow. After which he made a snide remark to the General before walking forward towards a vantage point he could use to properly prepare for what was soon to come.

"It's not the ones you hear that will get you..."

The meaning behind this was simple. An artillery shell traveled at such a speed that you would be dead from its detonation long before you heard the echo of it being fired in the distance. It was perhaps because of this that Bruno did not even bother to place his helmet on his head, let alone run for safety like the other soldiers nearby.

When the Russian General heard these words as well as the callous look on Bruno's face, he couldn't help but wonder just how many battles the German general had been through to look so fearless in the face of an oncoming artillery barrage. Something that would easily cause lesser men to break down should they endure such an assault.

After staring in silence for some time, the man realized that Bruno had already advanced to a vantage point overlooking the battlefield. And quickly scurried off after him. He would go into extensive detail about the preparations he had made to defend the city from the Red Army, but Bruno did not hear a word of it.

He was instead envisioning where he would put his machine guns, and where he would line up the Iron Brigade and their Tsarist allies in order to properly decimate the next wave of the Red

Army's assault.

There was a reason the Maxim Machine Gun was known by the nickname of the Devil's Paintbrush in Bruno's past life. But today the Devil would not be the painter, rather it would

be Bruno who took assumed this role.

After careful consideration, Bruno began to move his soldiers into positions. With the artillery having gone off, and ceased. It was only a matter of time before the whistles blew and the charge began. When that happened, the Red Army would be in for a very rude

awakening.