The Final Voyage

Epilogue

        Vladimir felt the heat from the explosion, the huge fireball of metal, smoke, and the occasional body part. He felt quite saddened. He wondered why the Admiral had volunteered so easily. Surely, he had children. At least, Vladimir thought he did. Once on board the Missouri, a long with dozens of his fellow sailors, he watched the resulting mushroom cloud. 

        Sergei didn't know how to feel. He had been a hardened soldier throughout his career, but deep inside, he did not wish to die. He did everything in his power to be bold and to not die. He reached for the necklace around his neck, and opened the pendant to see the picture of his wife, Viktoriya. Sergei smiled, realizing why the Admiral had sacrificed himself. He closed his fist around the pendant, looking into the sky

        "Ogromnoe spasibo, comrade," He closed his eyes, "Thank you."

        Aleksander felt a certain emptiness inside his gut. Yet, he somehow felt grateful, relieved even. The Admiral was heroic, sacrificing himself. Yet, Aleksander felt as if he could've have done better, done more to get all of them home safely. He sighed, knowing very well that that was impossible. To distract himself, he thought of his fiance, Diana. Even then, he felt a pang of guilt, knowing the Admiral died for him to live. 

        Vladimir turned around, when approached by 2 sailors carrying a crate, full of who knows what.

        "Look Lieutenant, what we managed to recover from the Shadow," One of the sailors said, while the other pried the crate open. Inside, was dozens of Vodka bottles, more then there were crew left. Vladimir picked up a note from inside. 

        It read: "To our victory, for we shall destroy the Japanese effort. Drink, men. For it could be your last." It was signed by the Admiral, most likely a speech for when they opened the crate.

        Vladimir looked at the crate once more. How much had it cost the Admiral to buy this, he wondered. Yet, here it was, the Admiral no longer here to even have a last drink.

        Vladimir picked up a bottle, called the others to gather, and raised it into the air, "For our honorable leader, Mykell! For he who has honored his family, his Motherland. For him, we shall drink, for he had not one sip of this before he died. Therefore, we shall drink for him!"

        The sailors raised their fists, yelling "Ura! Ura! Ura! Ura!" Vladimir passed the bottles around until everyone had some. He even had some to spare for the Missouri's officers.

        Almost two hours later, as Vladimir leaned on the railing, the Missouri racing home, he stared into the sunset.

        "Already dreaming of home, are you comrade?" Sergei said, walking up to him to lean on the rail, his back to the sunset, "I dare not look at the sun, for my wife is more beautiful." Sergei stated matter-of-factly, with a teasing smile on his face

        "You never grow up, do you, ya old hardy bastard?" Vladimir replied, slapping Sergei on the back hard enough to lift him of the railing.

        "I don't believe I want to." He replied, with a chuckle.

        "What are you 2 lovebirds doing, may I ask?" Aleksander joined them.

        "Waiting... What else can we do?" Sergei said. 

        "Is the war really over like they say it is?" Vladimir asked

        "Perhaps, perhaps not. Who can tell?" He said, taking a swig of his remaining vodka.

        "Good enough for me," Vladimir said, staring into the sunset once more. He hoped the war was over. He hoped there would be no other wars.

        But, as he will learn, he was wrong.