RhykovChapter 3
Rhykov and Sergei strode casually up to the cluster of small hovels. White troopers paid them no mind as they watered their horses and checked their gear. Some lay sprawled on the ground, basking in an unusually hot day for this time of year. Nearby, and completely ignored, were some of the former inhabitants of this farming community. They'd been shot and their bodies dragged out of the way and left in the hot sun. Rhykov felt nothing. He knew Tukhachevsky's 8th Red Army was doing the...