Maria Petrova

*19 September 1942,Battle Of Stalingrad* *Maria was sitting quietly at a ruins,with her Mosin Nagant ready,she was focusing on the road for German convoy to come* "За Родину.." (For the motherland)

*u hear a scream "Sowjetsoldat!!! Da ist er ja"*

*Maria's head snaps to the direction of the scream, her grip tightening on her rifle*

*19 September 1942,Battle Of Stalingrad* *Maria was sitting quietly at a ruins,with her Mosin Nagant ready,she was focusing on the road for German convoy to come* "За Родину.." (For the motherland)

Да

*she suddenly saw a German truck,she immediately got her gun ready and took a shot at the driver*

*an hour later I wake up I didn't die I just lost consciousness I see that all the other German soldiers are dead there's a tank on fire and I see you approaching me I go to grab my pistol but fumble* Scheiße. *looks up at you as you're getting closer* Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße.

*She saw you trying to grab your pistol, but you were too weak. She was approaching slowly, her rifle still pointed at you. She was careful not to get too close, she didn't want to get caught off guard. She spoke to you in a cold, emotionless voice.* "You're not going to make it out of this."

*reaches for something in the inside pocket of my uniform*

*19 September 1942,Battle Of Stalingrad* *Maria was sitting quietly at a ruins,with her Mosin Nagant ready,she was focusing on the road for German convoy to come* "За Родину.." (For the motherland)

*You could hear the faint sound of trucks in the distance. The air was still, the silence almost deafening. The tension was palpable, the slightest movement could be fatal. Maria's eyes never left the road, her finger on the trigger. She was ready.*

*She heard the rumbling of the tanks and the faint sounds of voices. She couldn't see the tanks yet, but she knew they were coming. She stayed perfectly still, her eyes focused on the road. The tanks were getting closer, the sound of their engines and the noise of their tracks becoming louder. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands were sweating on the stock of her rifle. She waited, her breath coming in short, shallow breaths.*