Private Bedros Sahakian
Journal Entry 30
July 11, 1932, Monday
We're still here.
Yesterday the Reds didn't let up.
They stacked up the neighboring buildings surrounding this place with fireteams and snipers to pin us down.
Two more of our guys got wounded as a result. One of them from squad a lost his right eye and the other from squad d took two bullets in the left shoulder.
We tried to do what we could for them but none of us are medics.
We paid back the Syndies with our own marksmanship. Most of the time we killed or wounded quite a number and that certainly frustrates them.
Especially last night.
An infiltration group tried to break in on the right flank but Modercai spotted them approaching.
Once alerted of this, Gunny told us to hold our fire to let them get closer. Once they did he fired a flare gun and that caught them off guard.
With no cover due to being in the middle of the street they were sitting ducks and we didn't hesitate, blasting with our springfields and Michail's browning rifle.
Within moments they were swiss cheese. All ten of them.
Of course their comrades in the buildings weren't happy about it and unleashed hell for the next several minutes.
Though the shooting stopped shortly afterwards. Once it did I heard the most awful crying amongst the bodies outside.
We stayed put and were forced to listen to it for most of the night. It was one word or name, repeated over and over again.
The dying man must've been begging for someone. Was it family, a friend or a lover?
Don't know but still it was horrible. So much so that I wanted to take a shot to end his misery but it was too dark and would've given away my position to the snipers.
In any case his cries lessened in volume hour by hour until we couldn't hear it any more amongst the constant shooting and the blasts outside our sector.
Hard to get some shut up when the enemy is not probing us. I keep seeing Robert's face in what little sleep I do manage to get here.
In every dream his lifeless eyes stare at me with that horrified expression as if asking; "Why?"
As time passes we're beginning to notice the revolutionaries are becoming more careful with how many rounds they shoot. Not because they're afraid of us but more likely their ammunition is limited.
No wonder they want to reclaim this cache.
Ironically what's helping us is the very weapons and tools they seek. I ran out of bullets for my Springfield this morning but switched to one of those Mosin Nagents.
Still getting used to it but it's proving to be very reliable. Now I see why the Russian army keeps this type of rifle in service.
It's not lost on me that I'm now using the same gun model that many of the fedayis used to fight in the last war.
Wel
Was interrupted earlier. Late afternoon the Syndies tried to rush us in human waves from three sides simultaneously supported by covering fire.
They attacked from west, north and east.
Our squad helped defend the north. Al really proved himself using his rifle's grenade launcher.
The grenade blasts slowed down the Reds and we made them pay for it. Even so they just kept coming and coming.
Felton reminded us why he is our squad leader because he kept us inspired throughout that onslaught, shouting encouragement and tossing extra grenades to those of us who needed it.
At one point the Snydicists broke inside from the east quarter but those few who did were shredded to pieces by a volley of shotgun shells combined with a Lewis Gun's rapid fire.
The Reds still outside were forced back but it was difficult for them to get away due to the numerous bodies on the streets.
In turn more corpses followed. At one point when lining up for another shot I saw a fighter go down when another threw away his gun and ran to his side.
I could see the wounded man screaming in pain, gesturing for his comrade to keep going but the latter refused to listen. Instead he lifted him over his shoulders then resumed the retreat.
It would've been easy to have shot them right then and there. At that moment however, I couldn't do that.
Whether by blood or by choice they were brothers. Just as Robert was to me.
They made it into one of the warehouses.
Don't get me wrong, if either of them come again I will kill them but not then.
Whoever ordered that attack must've been on a tight schedule or made a stupid mistake because that kind of assault would've been more effective at night. Not that I'm wishing for it but that did come to mind afterwards.
Now that commander, whoever it is, made it more difficult for themselves.
At the same time we suffered our own losses. Two marines were killed by a sniper before we could take him out.
Another marine got shot but in the left ear. We treated him as best as possible but again we're not doctors and the medical supplies here are dwindling.
Looking out further north I see a large ball of orange fire burning in the breeze. Ash and the stench of death fills our nostrils.
The fight for the city is far from over it seems but how long will this last? Sure we got plenty of ammo and we can converse with food and water but we're down to nineteen men still able to fight instead of the original twenty five guys.
If we're not careful they'll whittle us down till they can finally overrun our position.
Are we just delaying the inevitable? Does anyone aside from the enemy know we're here? Can they even reach us in time?
I suppose dwelling on any of that it's not good but it's hard to get it out of my mind at times.
Think Felton noticed it somehow and talked with me. He talked with me about how he grew up in Vermont such as his mother making her own version of maple syrup and the antics he and his youngest brothers got into.
Like replacing a neighbor's motorcyle's wheels with baby carriage wheels. Unleashing a squirrel in the middle of class and spooking some bullies with a fake ghost they made.
Sounds like they were a rather colorful bunch in their childhood.
Have to admit it made me laugh a bit. It was nice even for a moment to just have some levity.
Felton told me we'll make it through this before he went to check on how Modercai is doing. I don't know how our leader sees it but he really does believe that we will survive.
I want to believe it too like he does, even when the odds scream that we're going to be another Alamo.
Those revolutionaries have their cause to fight for but we have ours as well. To see another day.