Zmeya sat on a bench in the park. He had been given the signal that the General wanted to see him in order to give him his latest assignment.

He enjoyed sitting in the park. There he could usually find some peace while feeding the many birds that gathered around him. But there was also sorrow in his heart when he would watch couples that brought their children to picnic on the grass. He knew he would never be able to find such a life while he was serving the Soviet People. Maybe one day he could be retired to a job that would allow him to have a home.

The General arrived on time. He never wore his uniform when they would meet in the park. Then he was just another man that enjoyed feeding the birds. Their meetings, though in Moscow, were always given the same secrecy as if they were meeting outside the capital of the American Imperialist.

"Greetings Comrade. Congratulations on such a beautiful day." He said as he took a seat on the bench with Zmeya.

"Greetings Comrade General. What have you got for me today?"

"Ah, Zmeya. You are always so professional. You should enjoy life more and relax, not always be so anxious to serve the people. You should enjoy some conversation before we must conduct business for the people."

"I am certain you are correct Comrade General, but how can we rest when the people's safety and freedom are in danger." Besides, he did not want to have idle talk with anyone. His thoughts and feelings must always be guarded.

The General laughed holding his enlarged belly. "You are right Comrade, we must always be on guard."

He gave another glance around to see if they were being observed. "There is a village I want you to go to." He handed Zmeya an envelope.

"Here are your tickets and everything you need to know. Our Political Officer there has reported that there is counter-revolutionary activity in the village but he is not sure of the extent or who is the leader of the movement. I want you to go there as a driver. Your truck will break down leaving you stranded in the village for several days. This should give you enough time to find out what they are plotting and identify the leaders of this subversion."

"Whom do I report to?"

"There is a Colonel encamped one hundred kilometers to the south. You have there in the packet the information you need in order to contact him."

"Then I have all that I need."

Both of them got up together.

"I will expect you to report your findings to the Colonel in ten days."

It took Zmeya a couple of days to arrive in Mirnye. He picked up the truck and followed the map he was provided to his destination, where he sabotaged the truck.

He could recognize the village political officer from across town as he came out to see who the stranger was. These political officers could always be recognized by their air of unquestionable authority and that their clothes were always better than that of anyone else in the community. Party membership had its privileges.

Zmeya often pondered why those members of the party were given privileges that the mass of the people could never enjoy. He had been taught that the revolution was fought to free the people and ensure that everyone was treated equally. Yet here was another lazy man that used his power within the party to fatten himself off the labors of others. Zmeya thought this man would be more at home at Bourgeoisie factory in Imperialistic America.

"Hello Comrade, what is the problem with you truck?"

"The distributor appears to be bad. Do you have a mechanic here or extra truck parts?"

"No Comrade. We are a small village. We do not qualify for having a large truck much less having supplies for such."

"Could you call and request a part be sent here so that I could repair the people's truck?"

The political officer looked at Zmeya long and hard. It was clear he was attempting to figure out who he really was. He did not dare refuse to help if this stranger in town was a KGB officer checking on him.

"I do believe I can make a call?

"I thank you Comrade."

"Where are your papers?"

Zmeya reached in his pocket and pulled out the papers he had been provided and handed them over.

The officer closely examined the papers. Looking for any hint that this stranger was other than a simple truck driver.

Zmeya considered that he never came under such close scrutiny when he was entering a capitalistic country.

The officer turned and left without comment, returning to his office.

It was a couple of hours before he emerged again from the office to let Zmeya know it would be about a week before the part could be delivered. He took Zmeya to show him where he would be eating and sleeping.

The shack already housed two families. The privacy of the families were only protected by curtains of blankets hung to separate portions of the shack.

The families were preparing for the evening meal when he entered. The officer told the family that he would be staying with them until his truck was repaired. With that said he left, leaving Zmeya there with the families giving him empty looks.

There was no talking as they ate. The meal consisted of potatoes, beets and cabbage.

There was not a bed for Zmeya, he was given a blanket and pointed to the corner to sleep. A couple of the children were also to sleep on the floor.

Zmeya spent the next several days looking around the village and trying to befriend some of the villagers. On the fifth day he managed to follow one of the villagers to a patch of woods and then on the other side the man walked to a plot of land with small gardens. The man collected some beets and cabbage and started back.

As the villager was again walking through the woods Zmeya greeted him. "Hello Comrade."

The man dropped his load, stumbling back in shock. White faced he stuttered. "What are you doing here? Who are you?"

"My name is Michael Borosevich. I am just going for a walk."

He looked at the villager's sack and stepped towards the old man. "You dropped your sack. Would like me to help you with your heavy load?"

"No, no Comrade. I can handle it." He grabbed up the sack quickly.

"What do you have there?"

"Some supplies for the village." He said with obvious fear.

"Come on Comrade. I will walk with you."

They returned to the village together. When another of the villagers saw them approaching the village a quite alarm went out. One by one the pale faced villagers came out looking as if Mongol hordes were thundering towards them.

"What is the matter Comrades" Have I done something wrong?" Zmeya said with the appearance of sincerity.

"No Comrade." Said the old man from beside him. He motioned everyone into one of the homes.

Zmeya stepped into the home followed by the villagers.

Everyone was silent as waiting for an announcement of execution. Their gaze was on Zmeya.

"What is happening Comrades." Zmeya said.

The old villager spoke up for the gathering as he walked over and urged for the women of the house.

"Get this man some soup." He said with jovial command. "Where are our manners. Certainly he is hungry."

The woman quickly walked to the coal stove poured the soup and gave it to Zmeya.

"Thank you for this tasty soup. But, is there a problem here? Have I done something wrong?"

"Oh no," responded the old man. "We just want to be sure you do not go hungry and are comfortable."

Zmeya gave the old man a glare of doubt, which he passed on to the others in the room in turn. He intentionally changed his expression to consoling.

"Now Comrades, why are you so worried? I am only a simple truck driver. I am not a political officer or KGB. I am just passing through."

"What is it that you are so afraid of? Is there something about your having a garden."

"They take almost all of the food we produce as a collective and we do not receive enough fruit and vegetables to sustain ourselves." Pleaded the old man.

"Why haven't you gone to your village officer? He can order more food."

"We have, we have. But he tells us we should not be so selfish. That the state sends us our fair share of food and other supplies. Our children were going hungry Comrade. What could we have done?"

After a pause Zmeya glanced down to the floor. Looking up again he said, "Yes Comrade, what could you do. You must feed the children."

The part for the truck arrived after a couple more days so he was able to fix the truck and drive to the camp where he was to report in.

He was stopped outside the camp and told the private that the Colonel was expecting him.

An hour latter he was shown into the Colonel's office and gave his report that it was a simple case of villagers trying to feed themselves. After listening he was thanked and dismissed.

He spent the night in the camp before making the return trip. He was awakened early in the morning with troops being called to formation before loading several trucks and pulling out.

Zmeya just thought it was another training experiences.

Zmeya drove back through the village and saw that the army trucks were there and the village was empty. This surprised him so he got out to take a look. In the direction of the villager's garden he saw smoke.

He ran out to the garden. Running through the woods he was stopped by one of the troops.

"Take me to the Colonel, NOW!"

He was lead into the clearing where he saw the garden on fire.

The troops had the villagers surrounded at the other side of the field. They had taken a tank through the woods to the field. This tank had a shovel on the front.

Zmeya ran around the field to where the Colonel had the villagers kneeling on the ground. Several of the villagers were bleeding from wounds apparently from riffle butts. He also saw the old man on the ground with a pool of fresh blood around him. The village political officer was cringing in the middle of the group.

"What are you doing Colonel? These villagers are no danger to the soviet people. They were just growing food so they could feed their children."

"They have stolen from the people with their greed, an example must be made. Nobody can be tolerated thinking they are better than others, to hoard food."

"The general will not tolerate such treatment of Soviet citizens."

"My orders come from your general."

This caught Zmeya off guard. He knew how other generals abused their authority but did not ever think General Kasyanov would be a traitor to the people.

The Colonel ordered the tank to start digging a trench in middle of the field.

As the tank began moving earth the Colonel walked over to one of the young women. With his finger he stroked the edge of her face.

The girl withdrew from his touch as if it was from a snake. He slapped her hard across the face, knocking her down to the ground.

One of the young men lept to his feet after the Colonel. But, he was stopped by a couple of the soldiers. The Colonel turned to face him. Slowly he pulled out his pistol and placed a bullet in the middle of the young man's forehead.

The young woman screamed and tried to reach the young man that had been allowed to drop. The back of his head had been blown off.

Zmeya rushed forward. One of the troops attempted to stop him yet hardly slowed him down. Before he reached the Colonel someone was able to shoot him in the leg. When he fell several solders jumped on top of him.

The Colonel walked over and backhanded him. "You traitor! You dare to defy the people and your own general?"

To the troops holding him he commanded, "Take this traitor and tie him to the tree. I want three of you to watch him with your lives. If he manages to escape it will be your life. If he does not kill you, I will."

When the trench was complete the Colonel ordered that the troops take the young men of the village and kill them first. They were dragged to the edge of the trench and dropped into the trench with a bullet in the back of their heads. Then the rest of the men were executed and the older women and younger children.

As these executions proceeded the Colonel dragged the young woman into the woods. All could hear her screams and knew what was happening.

When he returned he was dragging the young woman behind him. Her clothes were ripped and she had blood on her face.

By this time only a couple of young women and a fourteen or fifteen-year-old girl were left. The solders took their turns with these. They too ended up being shot and in the trench.

With everyone from the village dead the Colonel turned his attention back to Zmeya. "Now traitor we will take care of you."

A corporal rushed up. "Comrade Colonel! Let me take care of this traitor scum!"

The Colonel nodded his agreement.

Before untying him from the tree one of the guards hit him with his riffle butt.

They dragged him to the trench he was pushed to his knees. His head was slumped, he was being barely conscious.

The corporal raised his gun to Zmeya's head and pulled the trigger. Zmeya fell into the pit onto the bodies of the dead villagers.

With this the Colonel smiled at his troops and announced that they should return and celebrate the completion of their mission, the trench could be covered up tomorrow.

In middle of the darkness of night a lone figure entered the clearing and climbed down into the trench. Only then did this figure turn on a flashlight. This person searched among the dead until he found Zmeya. The flashlight was then put out and the person checked Zmeya's neck for a pulse.

There was a very faint pulse. He quietly bandaged his head and leg before picking him up on his shoulders. He carried him through the woods to the nearby creek. There he lowered Zmeya to the ground and flashed his light to the other side. Two men came across the creek. As they were lifting him he came to and saw the man that had pulled him from the pit. He recognized that it was the corporal that had volunteered to shoot him.

"Why?" He gasped.

"Don't speak. Everything will be explained to you latter."

With this the men lifted him up and carried him across the creek to a waiting truck.