Chapter 87: The Savior of Tsaritsyn
War was hell, figuratively speaking, of course. Though if hell really existed and was a plane that one entered for living a sinful a wicked life. One which wholly rejected Christianity and its virtues. Then Bruno liked to believe that it would look very much like a battlefield, especially those of the Great War which he had often studied in his past life.
Any man who experienced the horrors of war would often change on a deeply personal level. Bruno himself had undergone subtle changes in his personality and was suffering from the early signs of posttraumatic stress disorder. While his brother Ludwig had been shell- shocked entirely by the conflict and had dedicated his life to preventing wars as much as possible.
For Erich, it had turned him cold and indifferent to human life itself, let alone the suffering that was so rampant across the world. In fact, he got a slight bit of sadistic joy from inflicting that very suffering on his enemies.
Heinrich, however, was always a romantic at heart, a man deeply sympathetic to the human existence, and what we all endured throughout our lives. The cruelty of war had only wounded his heart and mind.
When he wasn't on the battlefield or at his post, he could commonly be found in bars and taverns. Drinking away his sorrows with excessive quantities of alcohol, or even a few other illicit substances.
As a man who was most popular among the single ladies of this world, Henrich often eased his suffering in the company of the opposite sex. Not because it particularly made him feel good about himself, but temporarily numbed the pain that stung him so deeply.
Tonight was no different. While Bruno had retired early for the evening after overseeing the efforts of the Iron Division during the final months of their deployment to Russia. Heinrich had concluded the night by changing out of his military uniform and instead going to a local tavern.
Vodka was cheap and plentiful in Russia and had historically been used as a way to sedate the masses and any dreams they may have about revolting against their masters. Sure, it was an era where taverns, bars, and pubs were almost exclusively frequented by men.
But if one knew where to look for the sleezy women of the world, they could easily find them. Even in a place as orthodox as Russia. Had Heinrich visited such a place after getting well and drunk while wearing a military uniform, it would have shamed his unit and commander. As well as presenting various dangers.
After all, the Red Army was hiding in the streets of Russian cities, and their ranks were not exclusively composed of men. It was not an impossibility that female assassins would target the man if he so boldly displayed his allegiance while engaging in debauchery.