October 12th, 1942: It was just another ominous day today, without food, water or care. But, not without love. The love for our Mother. The Nazis keep draining Her, but we will continue rejuvenating Her with blood; the blood of Her children, hoping to bring her back to good health.
At 4 am today, a coward comrade Commissar pulled his own trigger at his head. That coward! Even dying to a brother is much more respectable than losing hope. Anyone touching his corpse was to be shot dead, as he was only fit to be devoured by the scavengers.
At about 10 am, the firing intensified; the Nazis were closing in on us. They must be a few yards away from the Volga, and if they walk past, Stalingrad will be stripped of freedom. But may the Gods curse me for even thinking so.
It rained bad news today, and a drop among the others includes the death of comrade Vladimir, our Mother’s valiant son. You have fought well, brother and I promise to shed more tears when we meet again up there somewhere. Hundreds died today, but you dared to take at least 10 Germans along with you. Mother Russia is proud of you, and so is Father Stalin.
My pace of writing seems to decrease day by day. Who knows? Maybe it is significant. I lost my left hand today. It was a sniper. I was lucky to have saved my head. But luck is dying out with time, and before it does, I hope to see the Nazis being chased out of Stalingrad. Tomorrow we will march to the City Center, if we are fortunate enough to make it through the night. Tomorrow, another page of this diary will either be filled with ink or with blood…
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