October 1986:

As the great Union of Soviet Socialist Republics passed the 15 year mark after the end of WWIII, it found itself reaching for new commanders from all over its vast empire. The victory of the allies in the last war led to a complete crumbling of the Soviet leadership structure. Premier Romanov, his top advisors, and many of the Soviet generals were arrested and tried for war crimes. Some were shot, some are still in prison in Europe and the United States, but what is for sure is that none of them are around to lead the armies of the motherland. Finally back on its feet from the surprise arrival of Premier Anatoly Cherdenko, an army officer who seemingly came out of nowhere to rise to the highest post in the nation, massive rebuilding efforts needed to be undertaken.

The first step of the rebuilding process was the revitalization of the scientific corps under the leadership of Dr. Gregor Zelinksi. From his central laboratory in Moscow, he began to develop wondrous new weapons for the Red Army. Tanks, walkers, jets, and ships all rolled off the design floors and into the vast Soviet arsenal. However, in our socialist motherland, all men were equal, but some were more equal than others. Russians were given the first pick of weapons factories, leaving all other nationalities to have their second picks. For example Zhana Agonskaya was given the new MiG fighter jets, while the Azeri general Ragiv Rezhinev had to make do with the older MiG fighter-bombers and siege choppers. Oleg Vodnik was able to command hammer tanks, sickles, and even the next generation of apocalypse tanks, while the Lithuanian general Mikolas Akmuas was left to use old rhino tanks, V3 rockets, and flak tracks. Nikolai Moskvin received akula submarines and next-generation dreadnaughts while Ukrainian admiral Yuri Orlengo was forced to utilize typhoon-class submarines and sea scorpions in his Black Sea fleet.

That leads us to me, Lieutenant Dasha Fedorovich, communications officer. Born to a large family of devoted Communists in central Belarus, every one of my brothers joined the Red Army, but I was the only one to make it to an officer's rank. It was hard, stuck with other minority nationalities, but I managed to work my way up through determination, skill, and loyalty above all. Today I am being reassigned to a new commander, some colonel in the Far East. My old commander, General Gregor Sagashvili, was a 72 year-old Georgian pervert who spent more time looking at my chest and legs than he did looking at his battle plans. The official story was that he was ambushed in Germany by Allied partisans, but the truth was that he had a heart attack while visiting a Polish brothel. Just as well, the man was incompetent, only sent to mop up after superior commanders had already defeated the enemy.

This left me wondering about my new commander. I had only been given a single sheet with a few basic facts about him.

NAME: KAMENSKY, MIKHAIL PAVLOVICH
RANK: COLONEL
BORN: 21/07/1952
BIRTHPLACE: AMURZET, EAO, RSFSR

Yevreyskaya Avtomnaya Oblast, it seems that I would be paired with a Jew this time. This may be interesting, they were decent enough commanders in the Great Patriotic War. I kept looking down the sheet for anything else that might tell me a bit about him.

EDUCATION: AMUR STATE UNIVERSITY - BIROBIDZHAN
COMMUNIST PARTY MEMBER: YES
KOMSOMOL APPLICATION APPROVED: 06/1967

Ah, a loyal party member, now this was a man I could work with! His military history was average enough.

LIEUTENANT: 1974
CAPITAN: 1980
MAJOR: 1983
COLONEL: 1986- COMMANDING 69TH INDEPENDENT INFANTRY REGIMENT / HQ: BABSTOVO, EAO
OFFICER NOTES:
COMMANDER IS VERY CAUTIOUS. PREFERS STRONG DEFENSE BEFORE ENGAGING IN OFFENSIVE ACTIONS. OVERLY RELIANT ON ARMORED UNITS. GIVEN WAR FACTORY, COMMANDER IS UNSTOPPABLE. RECOMMEND FOR REGIONAL COMMAND AWAY FROM ACTIVE FRONT.

I can only let out a sigh of disappointment. A decent commander? Well that is no fun if I am to be stuck out in the woods with nothing to do. The war is thousands of miles from where I will be. I slam the fact sheet down on the table and begin to crumple it into a ball. As I do so, a rigid piece of cardboard falls to the floor. A photograph? I pick it up and begin to examine the figure in the picture. He is an officer, I can tell that instantly from the uniform. I flip it over and read a handwritten bit.

Colonel Kamenksy, official photograph 1986

So this was the man I would be working with. I flip it back over and begin to examine his face. A neatly-trimmed beard covered his face, the same dark color of his hair. I couldn't tell if it was brown or black, the photograph being a quick black and white one. He very little hair, having it shorn down to only a few millimeters. Probably to keep the lice at bay in his eastern tent, I joke to myself before realizing that I will be on my way there soon. Bozhe moy, I can't do this. I take a look back at the photograph, locking eyes with the picture of the young commander. On the other hand, it might not be all that bad.