Last Orders: The War That Came Early - Plot & Excerpts
Somewhere up ahead, there always seemed to be more Germans. Ivan Kuchkov had started to think the Hitlerites stamped out soldiers in a factory somewhere near Berlin. He shared the conceit with the men in his section. He gave them orders; they were stuck listening to him unless they really wanted to get the shit piled on their backs. “They turn the fuckers on a lathe,” he said, warming to his story, “and then they spray on the gray uniforms the way we paint trucks.” “I almost believe it, you know?” Sasha Davidov said. “What? They don’t make kikes the same way?” Ivan gibed. The scout shook his head. “Afraid not, Comrade Sergeant. If they did, there’d be more of us. No, we fuck like everybody else.” “Like hell you do,” Kuchkov said. “You’ve got those clipped cocks. Probably shortens the recoil when your gun goes off.” As the Red Army men laughed, Davidov said, “I knew there had to be some kind of reason for it.” He didn’t sound pissed off or anything.
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