Norilsk, Russia - July 20th, 1916
Entry #76 _____________________
The morale within Черный кальмар is on its hind legs. Our attempts to curb the German бeссmерthbln have been futile at best. I write with a heavy heart that the end may soon be upon us. To die in the winter's embrace isn't such a bad exit to make off this scorched stage. Still; I'm afraid that to come so far but fall so short would a burden I would take with me in whatever awaits. My memory serves perfectly back to the day when her gates first opened. Ivory gates of the future. A purpose that many will never know and can never know. The ultimate soldat was, no, is our goal. Deep behind their lines are isolated chambers filled with gases and antiquated horrors. I have seen what they become after they leave those nameless bastions. To call them men would be too much a slight at nature. To insinuate that there are souls left in them or minds, that would be too cruel. If we weren't with our backs to the wall I could admire their ingenuity and their beauty. Beyond good and evil they are a transcendence. Marvelous as they are- their presence has tilted the scales past our breaking point. Their soulless nightwalkers and their furred abominations that prowl through our cities at night feeding on the blood of our nation. I may break my quill writing this just imagining such a grotesque weapon. Our own efforts to create an answer have been fruitless. Dozens arrive every half-dozen months yet for the past two years all we have to show for them are degraded husks with no names.
Here they come now. I loathe this dreadful town more than the Germans. Dated mining, ignorant sheep; if it weren't the ideal testing grounds I would have bit the pill at least a year ago. Each shipment grows leaner and with the fewer counts we have less opportunities to miss. Their lives can't be considered losses, not truly, since they had nothing prior to their arrival. It is in the name of our great motherland that they give their futures so that we may find a way to end this. By the looks on their gaunt faces, narrow with hunger and dull in the eyes, we're doing them favors. They won't make it another three months as they are. They grow younger too. The children react more potently to our treatments so the parents are told they are being relocated for their safety. Most agree and those that don't are transmuted to sustenance. That sounds so barbaric reading it back to myself but I can't help to laugh. What are we to do' All of our sacrifices are for the good of the motherland. A few orphans, a few poor laboring children....we will live on without them. I can't explain it but I have high hopes for this batch. Should we fail now it would mean the undoing of all our work. That absolutely cannot come to pass.
война до победы.
- бледная лошадь
Entry #76 _____________________
The morale within Черный кальмар is on its hind legs. Our attempts to curb the German бeссmерthbln have been futile at best. I write with a heavy heart that the end may soon be upon us. To die in the winter's embrace isn't such a bad exit to make off this scorched stage. Still; I'm afraid that to come so far but fall so short would a burden I would take with me in whatever awaits. My memory serves perfectly back to the day when her gates first opened. Ivory gates of the future. A purpose that many will never know and can never know. The ultimate soldat was, no, is our goal. Deep behind their lines are isolated chambers filled with gases and antiquated horrors. I have seen what they become after they leave those nameless bastions. To call them men would be too much a slight at nature. To insinuate that there are souls left in them or minds, that would be too cruel. If we weren't with our backs to the wall I could admire their ingenuity and their beauty. Beyond good and evil they are a transcendence. Marvelous as they are- their presence has tilted the scales past our breaking point. Their soulless nightwalkers and their furred abominations that prowl through our cities at night feeding on the blood of our nation. I may break my quill writing this just imagining such a grotesque weapon. Our own efforts to create an answer have been fruitless. Dozens arrive every half-dozen months yet for the past two years all we have to show for them are degraded husks with no names.
Here they come now. I loathe this dreadful town more than the Germans. Dated mining, ignorant sheep; if it weren't the ideal testing grounds I would have bit the pill at least a year ago. Each shipment grows leaner and with the fewer counts we have less opportunities to miss. Their lives can't be considered losses, not truly, since they had nothing prior to their arrival. It is in the name of our great motherland that they give their futures so that we may find a way to end this. By the looks on their gaunt faces, narrow with hunger and dull in the eyes, we're doing them favors. They won't make it another three months as they are. They grow younger too. The children react more potently to our treatments so the parents are told they are being relocated for their safety. Most agree and those that don't are transmuted to sustenance. That sounds so barbaric reading it back to myself but I can't help to laugh. What are we to do' All of our sacrifices are for the good of the motherland. A few orphans, a few poor laboring children....we will live on without them. I can't explain it but I have high hopes for this batch. Should we fail now it would mean the undoing of all our work. That absolutely cannot come to pass.
война до победы.
- бледная лошадь