Chapter 2: Red-Gold
A digital clock blinks in the corner of the room displaying the time in red numbers: it is five o'clock in the morning. Matthew rolls over, burrowing deeper into the thick yet still somewhat inadequate blankets on his bed. The patrol ended six hours ago, but Ivan still hasn't entered the dorm shared by the twenty young recruits. Matthew had no idea where he had gone, no one usually did.
There was a lot he didn't know about Ivan: where he came from, why he was here, whom he had left behind. Ivan had been at the base as long as any of the recruits could remember, but he didn't seems to have aged much at all, the oldest of them, a man whom everyone called Gil, had been there for over seven years, he maintain that Ivan looked no older now than when Gil had met him all those years ago. Of course, Ivan never spoke about himself to anyone. Except me, Matthew thinks.
Who is Ivan? Matthew wonders as he falls asleep. Who is he, and why do I get the feeling that he was lying, that he knows exactly why he is here?
The important officers of the base are all lined up behind their raised table, ready to make an announcement, when the recruits slump in the next morning. As they file into the room they all visibly straighten as they see some of the most important men in the army. The sergeant leads them in a crisp formal salute, the sudden appearance of the officers may be impromptu, but the recruits are well trained.
"At ease men." Says an impressive man in a Captain's uniform, "you are probably wondering why I am here today…"
"Must be pretty important for a captain to come all the way out here." Matthew whispers to Ivan, who stands beside him in the line.
Ivan hisses a reply from between his teeth, "That's not just any captain, that's Captain Kirkland." The captain Kirkland is in charge of the expansion of the country, and in eliminating all obstacles to that goal, namely the fact that troops are out numbered almost ten to one. It was rumoured that he was developing a person-weapon hybrid specially designed to kill, but no one could say what the creature would look like or what it could do.
Matthew exhales sharply. "W-wow."
"… We need more men on the battlefield, so, as of now, you have all completed your training. You shall be the 72nd light division. Prepare to move out before tonight." The Captain surveyed the line of young men. "All of you are needed." As he said this he looked directly at Ivan, who seemed to shiver slightly under the other man's gaze. "You may eat now."
"What was that about Ivan? He was talking right to you, not to the rest of us." Matthew asks, but Ivan just shakes his head and sits down at a table. They ate the rest of the meal in silence, listening to the officer's strategizing up at their table.
Later that day, after training exercises in the yard, the recruits are sent to the dorm to pack, after about a minute, Ivan joins Matthew, sitting on the Canadian's bed. He fiddles with the blanket as Matthew folds his personal belongings into a canvas bag.
"You done packing already?" Matthew pants, breathing heavily after his frenzied activity. Ivan nods. "Don't you have any, like, letters or stuff, family pictures, old clothes or anything?" The Russian smiles sadly, he doesn't. Matthew finishes his task, and heaves the bag over his shoulder. "Lets go put this in the truck." Ivan grabs his own much smaller bag and follows.
Outside they find the sergeant standing beside a transport vehicle. Salutes are exchanged.
"Go put you things at the back of the truck"
"Yes sir"
"Y-yes sir" Matthew curses himself, that stupid stammer had returned; he couldn't speak to anyone without it. Except Ivan. Matthew pushes that strange thought out of his head and climbs into the truck.
"You've barely said anything all day, are you sure you're okay?" Matthew asks the Russian. They're sitting on the back of one of the transport vehicles, feet hanging over the edge. The truck is heading south, taking them to the front line.
"I don't know. I guess it seems as if we're becoming gun-fodder." Ivan looks out as he says this, stubbornly avoiding eye contact.
"Why di I get the sense that you are lying Ivan?"
Ivan sighs. "I don't trust the Captain, and it just feels as if this is just war for the sake of fighting, as if we're not actually fighting for anything. You know?"
Matthew doesn't know. "I'm certain the Captain would never send innocent men to their deaths, and of course this war has a purpose, isn't that the point."
"I'm not so sure."
The sunset paints the flat fields of snow red and gold as they drive by. Matthew looks out over them, not really seeing. What Ivan has said makes a great deal of sense: they've been fighting this war for over eighteen years with no clear progress on either side, its not as if they need the extra territory either, the country does find by itself.
Trying to distract himself, Matthew says, "I've never seen snow this colour before, the red is kinds pretty."
"Da," says the Russian, "It would be beautiful if it didn't remind me so much of blood."
They sit in silence for the rest of the ride.
