Disclaimer-I am not of the Eastern Orthodox Faith. This is meant to consolidate what you already know about Gregory and to show that not all Russians were Soviets. I apologize for any mistakes I make in the proceedings or if this offends anyone.
Chapter 7-Dasvidania
The censer swung slowly in Gregory's hand as he finished the prayer of absolution. He silently admitted to himself that this wasn't a perfect service, no one but him truly knowing how an Orthodox Funeral worked. They all had seen funerals, but Arthur had expressly desired to all of Wolf Base that he wished to be buried like Gregory would before Arthur's death. This is how it had to be.
No one but Arthur had known of his religion, Eastern Orthodox, until just a day ago. It was the religion of his ancestors and a few days before Arthur's death Gregory converted him. He was no clergyman by any means, but he knew the workings of the Orthodox Church because of his pious parents and how Orthodox Funerals work, because he had seen many.
The faces of the attendees were somber to emotionless. The crying from Beth was surprisingly stable; she kept her composure well even though she had just lost her twin. After the initial shock had worn off, Victoria was calm, very little distress showing on her face. The perfect snegurochka, he mused. His gaze shifting to the hard faced Pete, only his eyes betraying emotion. Of course, he lost his whole fighter squadron, he knows what it's like.
Everyone had their candles, all forty attendees. Most of these were leaders of the major fighter groups in the area. With a final swing of the censer, Gregory called out to the congregation, "Will all in attendance please rise and form a line for the last kiss," With confusion, the gathered mass followed his orders and lined up along the front of the coffin.
With a silent nod, Beth went first giving her late brother a kiss on the forehead. She moved down and set her candle down into the holder. On and on this process went until there were six left, the Pallbearers. With a handful of earth, Gregory made a cross on Arthur's body. With a silent nod, the group placed the lid on the coffin and lifted it slowly.
The group left the meadow Victoria had suggested they hold the ceremony and walked in a procession to Wolf Base. Slowly, the censer swinging in rhythm, they marched the kilometer back to base. In the rear of the procession the Perebor was sounding. A small bell followed by increasingly larger bells until the reached a bell barely small enough to be carried by hand then they all rung in unison.
Throughout the ceremony the various commanders stationed riflemen to guard the funeral, the fear of the noise attracting the Soviet's attention was great. The fact that most of the key leadership of the resistance movement were all in one place only increased their fears.
They reached the burial site and slowly the coffin was set into the grave. Gregory poured the incense ash from the censure on top of the coffin. Removing the shovel stuck into ground, he scooped up some dirt and tossed it on the grave in the shape of the cross, "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof," Slowly the some of the group gathered around and helped fill in the grave.
Victoria took a step forward when she heard a voice behind her, "I didn't take Commander Richardson to be a religious man," Turning revealed a blonde, tall, slender man, "Did you?"
She locked eyes with the man, charm forming an aura around him, "He isn't, but he takes death very seriously. His religion is freedom, his bible the constitution. But when it comes to death, he needs solace. This is the only way he knows how to bring closure to the lives he once knew."
A slight scoff, "Well, he's been through this a lot then hasn't he. The hand of death seems to follow him wherever he goes."
A hard glare shot from her eyes, "Excuse me, I need to go bury a friend," She made a sharp turn and walked towards the grave site, taking a shovel from another fighter she put on the last of the dirt.
Quietly Gregory turned back to the reassembled gathering, "This was a great man, a free American to the core. It was once said by another great American that it is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died, rather, we should thank God that such men lived. We should all thank god that he did live, that he died doing his duty to his nation and the people he cared about. I must admit that when I met him he was raw, he had the heart, but not the skill. But he did have one thing, an eagerness to learn."
"So I taught him all that I could. I could not ask more from a student, and I am proud of him. I never did tell him that, and I wish I could have. He will be deeply missed, that I know for certain. But he would want us to fight on, to drive the Soviet from our soil. And we must do that," He pointed to the grave, "Because his sacrifice should not go in vain."
He gave a solemn nod, "Thank you all for attending, this concludes the ceremony. All commanders gather out in front of the cabin, the rest of you are dismissed."
The group slowly filtered out and when the last of them left Gregory kneeled at the grave, "Dasvidania my brother, we shall meet once more in the afterlife," He placed his hand on the grave and grabbed some of the dirt, letting it fall through his fingers.
A hand fell lightly on his shoulder, "He meant a lot to you, didn't he."
A sigh, "He was my favorite student, one of the most attentive and eager to learn. He was the least fearful of my heritage. I will be fine though, death isn't new to me…people much closer to me have died."
She gripped his shoulder a bit more, "You will be fine. We need you here amongst the living, Arthur would understand that."
His hand moved to rest on hers, "You are correct Snegurochka…"