It was a cold morning in the dreaded city as my fellow soldiers and I were being transported to our destination. The transport we were sitting in was an old truck from the looks of it, with the paint peeling and the engine coughing after every few rotations of the wheels. It was becoming this way as the shortage on the more modern trucks was happening. The bombing from the Krout's could see to that. I am a soldier of the Soviet Union and I am dreading every minute of it. Although I am a passionate patriot, with the love of my country; I would rather be in the safety of my home than in this dreadful place they call "Stalingrad".