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Book One World War Three 1946

Book One World War Three 1946
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Monday, July 16, 2012


The little creature stood on its hind legs and sniffed the air. Since it was for all practical purposes blind this was one of the ways it could tell which direction food or sex was. This of course was all it cared about. Unlike the humans that had invaded its' creek bed.

Humans actually killed each other over ideas. Our little creature had no ideas so it only fought for sexual advancement and sometimes over territorial needs. Basic survival. Human leaders were able to convince their people and to make them believe that their very survival was in danger even from people thousands of miles away. Then when in a combat situation far from home your very survival and that of your friends, was indeed in danger. So you fought the other human beings. Human beings who would probably be very kind to you in other circumstances. Other human beings who just wanted to plant a garden and to raise their families. Unfortunately for millions of other people and billions of other living creatures a few humans have the ability to convinced themselves and then others that their ideas were worth fighting and dying for. Not them mind you, no they never seemed to go off to war, but others...always others.

The leaders of the humans were very good at making the soldiers believe that others wanted to take their wife or home when in fact the vast majority of your supposed enemies did not. Humans have imaginations that can be filled with fear but not so our little creature.

Yeorgi made up for his bad eye by having excellent hearing. Besides you only needed on good eye to be a good shot and Yeorgi was that. He was the best sniper in the 363rd and had 37 kills so far in these cursed mountains. What caught his attention was a sound he hadn't heard since he was 11 in the Caucuses where he stayed with his grandparents for 3 summers from ages 8 to 11. Those were good times.

The sound he heard was kind of a cross between a violin and a hand drill going through wood. The only thing that made that sound that he knew of was a desman. How could this be? This furry creature was almost blind. It was basically a swimming mole complete with long snout large clawed paws for digging and swimming and in the desman's case a long scaly tail that aided greatly in swimming like a muskrat. Desmans are rare in Russia. So rare that the government has banned their killing since the 1920s. But that sound was definitely a desman. There can be no other animal that sounds the same.

He had to find out. The sound obviously came from the creek to the southwest. First I'll look with my scope he thought. Inch by inch he scoured the shoreline from his vantage point. There were many parts he could not see of course. No desman from this site. He signaled his spotter that he had to take a leak. Parts of the creek were in plain sight of the enemies snipers so he had to be careful but he had to find out of that noise was a desman. Imagine far from home and to hear that sound from his childhood. He used to watch the silly creatures for hours as they swam and dove for grubs and worms. Basically sightless yet able to function quite well using their whiskers and nose. Could they really be here in these mountains they call the Pyrenees. Two places on earth the Caucuses and the Pyrenees so far apart yet so similar.

The other day a member of the command staff encountered a bear and was severely wounded when the animal charged. Imagine coming all the way to Spain to die by bear claws. Come to think of it he better be careful to not die trying to find a swimming mole of all things. There is was again. He heard the distinctive sound near that mound of sticks. Time for patience and observation. This is not the time and place to go sticking your head up trying to find a childhood memory.

Oh shit here comes my spotter looking for me.

"What are you doing comrade? There are Spaniards to kill. You look too happy for war. What have you found?
"Nothing yet but heard a sound I haven't heard since I was a boy in the Caucuses. The only creature that I know that makes that sound is a desman. They are rare back home and I can't imagine them being found here as well."
"What do they look like?"
"They look like a big mole that can swim."
"You mean they are blind?"
"I would like to see this."
"We'd better get back. The Maior will shoot us for looking for a swimming mole."
"Perhaps he would be curious as well."
"I am not going to find out...wait ... there ... see by the dead bush. Yes there it is. It's a desman! I can't believe it!"
"I see it's pretty ugly. See how it rears up to sniff the air. How does it survive? It appears to have no eyes at all from here."
"They usually come out at night but I suppose all the explosions and strange smells have confused them."
"Oh shit here's the Maior...pretend you putting away your pecker so he things we were pissing."

Yeorgi will have good dreams of childhood tonight. Remembrances of times past. Remembrances of times without killing and death. Memories of an ugly swimming mole thousands of miles away and far from thousands of deaths as well. Tonight his childhood will come flooding back to him. Tomorrow he will kill or be killed but tonight is for memories. Tonight is for a little creature found in only two places on earth. Little does Yeorgi know but later in the spring he will once more be in the Caucuses near his Grandparents old home site fighting for his life from a gunshot wound to his left lung while the desmans he knew and loved will sniff the air and taste his blood in the water. The last thing he will hear is a desman calling his mate and it will bring a smile to his face as his final death rattle escapes his lips.