Valentin Pokopovich

Soviet P.O.W. turned Spearhead


VALENTIN POKOPOVICH: Excerpts from Valentin’s dossier


Life has begun. School is over. I’m ready to get the fuck out off this farm, and take Belle (that’s right. That’s my car’s name. Awesome.) to somewhere where I can use them. Ivan isn’t looking forward to my going away, but I think he understands. Well, he understands as much as a little brother can.
No parents to tell me what to do anymore. Just me, Belle, and the future.

Thrill seeking is hard to do in Russia. Well, can’t decide what to call it anymore. USSR or Russia. Either way, it seems that everywhere I go there are military or police invoking edicts and other nonsense. I can’t deal with this. I’ve been away from home for a while. I think I may go back for a bit. I think my rebellious nature put undue stress on my relationship with my parents, and I need to tell them I love them.

I burnt my family farm to the ground. I had to get rid of that place of murder, or it will forever haunt my mind.
Whatever did my parents and brother do? They just tried to live their lives on their farm as best they could. What FUCKING RIGHT did the USSR have to search their home and kill them? Fuck, I don’t even know if they did it in that order.
I will never forget the way my parents and brother were laying on the floor when I found them. Observing the scene, I think that they shot my brother when he was sitting down at the dinner table. Then they shot my father as he rose to stop them. My mother was the worst, as she lay on the ground in the living room with her head blown clean off.

They will pay for this. Just as I burned my home down, I will burn the USSR down. Those godless cunts will perish.

Piloting school, while hard to endure because I am not a fucking communist, is pretty easy. My aptitude for driving has carried over into flying. I also know that this is where I need to be if I want to do what I have to do. Someday. Just have to be patient.

I’m going to try tomorrow. My plane will be in the hangar completely unattended. The bombs are already hidden in the hanger. Everything is set. This may be my last entry.

[This was his last journal entry. His plan was to fly his plane into a hotel in Stalingrad where Leonid Brezhnev was staying with his cabinet. Unfortunately, he was found out before he could get off the ground. Valentin attempted an escape by car, but he was tracked down by the Soviet police. Then, Valentin was held as a prisoner of war for 3 years. During this time he was tortured, and eventually lost the use of his left leg. We were forced to amputate.
We raided a Soviet stronghold and found Valentin nearly dead in a windowless cell. Eventually brought him back to health, the best we could, and now he works for us. His passionate hate for the Russians still exists, and we intended on utilizing it for our own purposes.]

Getting around on leg is difficult. English hard also. Especially to write. Getting hang of it.
To crazy in my youth. Not focused, just hate. Now I have Spearhed. We will make right the world.

Valentin Pokopovich

Wrapped In The Flag JFever