Piotr Darniko’s Heart of Darkness: A Memoir to the Lost and Damned of WW4

Piotr Darniko’s Heart of Darkness: A Memoir to the Lost and Damned of WW4 is a short story written by u/EntertainmentGrand, about an interview on the aftermath of WW4 on Piotr Darniko, who was featured a previous story: Piotr Darniko: A Memoir of the Defenders of Warsaw in WW3.

## Story

In 2100, two American journalists, Michael Maddox and Jeffrey Pilliger, set off to find Major Piotr Darniko, last spotted in the Alaskan wilderness. After almost 8 months of investigation, Darniko was found in a small cottage in Alaska, far from any populated area. After an agreement, an interview was able to be conducted about Darniko if the two would keep Darniko’s location secret.

Comparing the interview to the famous BBC one taken nearly 55 years ago, there is a significant difference in both, not just in Piotr’s age, but his tone and look on life as well.

The small cottage seems to be one well stocked, with food, water, a hunting rifle, a crossbow, ammunition for both, and many books dating back to the 1900s. Pictures of Darniko’s military history are around, including one of him and his squad before the infamous Siege of Warsaw.

Piotr: “I’m assuming you’ve read my earlier interview with the BBC to find me, yes?”

Jeffrey: “Yup, we did.”

Piotr: “Great, so I don’t have to tell you about that. I’ll just say what happened after.”

“I fled to Britain when the French started taking Germany as well, their government had been evacuating troops and refugees and I was one of the lucky ones.

My time in England was spent by studying military subjects and preparing for the day Warsaw was freed. I went to the British Armed Forces, graduated military school, and promised one day that my boots would step right back onto Polish soil.”

Michael: “For 20 years?”

Piotr: “Yes, I was very dedicated to beating the Eurasians back. For 12 of those years I served, and their commanding officers promised that if by any chance Poland rose, I’d get the first ticket back to my home.”

Michael: “So World War 4 begins, and you get to go back to your home?”

Piotr: “Not really, when the Eurasians landed on the doorstep of the British Isles, I was tasked with defending air bases from Eurasian sabotages. That changed until early 2067, when I finally got what I had been waiting for, the British commanders fulfilled their promise and sent me abroad, I went to Poland.

When I first got there, it felt… weird.

I almost couldn’t recognize Warsaw anymore. It felt like the Eurasians destroyed everything that had a hint of Polish identity and replaced it with their own mock-up “city”. Shops had Slavic propaganda and Eurasian logos on them, military checkpoints dotting intersections, the public square where I saw a civilian shoot another had a statue bust of Alexander Dugin, at least I think so, the bust had been blown off and vandalized to make it unrecognizable. I went to the Vistula to see what had happened to it, it was still there, but littered with trash, not to mention the dead Eurasian occupation soldiers that were being burnt nearby.``

Jeffrey: “And you began to serve in the Army?”

Piotr: “Yes. When I told them that I was a soldier back in World War 3, they were… surprised. To say the least.

Piotr glances at the medals he had gotten from the Polish Revanchists during his time in World War 4, appearing to look at them with disdain.

“8th Mechanized Battalion, Major. I got placed in that unit, populated by young people who were just as eager to get into the fight back when I was their age.

But now, I was an old man. An old man who had to give orders, and guide them all. I had orders I complied with, to ensure victory for Poland. A victory for us, a victory for those who had been lost since Warsaw fell, a victory that would cement the great future for Polish generations to come.”

Piotr coughs, then out his pocket shows the two journalists a radio. It has shown signs of age and decay, from an age where conflict and heartlessness ran supreme.

“I used this a lot to coordinate. Most of the times, I was directly on the frontlines, guiding my men to hopeful victory in the East. Bialystok, Kaunas, Riga, and beyond. We became brothers in arms, getting to know each other whilst we moved on.

I still kind of remember some of the comrades I fought with. Aleksei always had everyone around him due to his cigarettes, Stanislaw seemed like the best comedian in the entirety of Europe, and it felt like my comrade Andrzej couldn’t go a week without at least having 6 bottles of beer.”

Jeffrey: “You seem pleased at your battling. That’s a bit odd.”

Piotr looks at Jeffrey, confused. “Odd?”

Jeffrey: “Yeah, because in your last interview, you didn’t seem ecstatic. You were… not like you are talking now.”

Piotr ponders about that statement for a moment.

“It was because I had a purpose.”

Jeffrey: “For you?”

Piotr: “Not just me. All of us. Maybe all of us didn’t see much in life, one in which authoritarianism and the horrors of society were abundant, maybe we needed somewhere to express our rage, at those god forsaken Eurasians who decimated our society. I don’t know for certain, but I do know 2 things me and a few others were looking for. Vengeance and freedom.”

Jeffrey: “Vengeance?”

Piotr: “We all, including me, from the peasantry to top command, wanted Eurasia expelled from our lands. They had brutally oppressed us for decades, and we wanted revenge for that. That was the reason we took no prisoners.”

Michael: “You killed POWs?”

Piotr: “Orders from higher-ups. I saw lines upon lines of Eurasians shot and then left to nature to rot. I’d usually try not to watch it, just give the orders to other comrades and let them decide. Back then, that was normal. I complied with it.

Another normal thing that was there was destroyed buildings or devastated areas that we just waltzed through. I remember during our time there was a forest that had been fortified by the Eurasians. High command didn’t want to charge into it, so they brought everything they could to clear it out.

I was ordered to clear out the area with my battalion, and I complied. I don’t think I even saw sunlight that day, everything was covered in smoke and fire. Hell, I don’t even think they were Eurasians there. They all pulled out.”

Michael: “When was that?”

Piotr: “Riga Campaign. 2071”

Michael: “Wait, wasn’t that around th-“

Piotr: “Yes.”

Piotr walks to a cabinet, grabs a box, and sits back on his chair. Opening it, he pulls out a map. The map is dated in late 2071, with red pins all over Eastern Europe. Piotr points his finger near Narva.

Piotr: “I still remember that day.”

Jeffrey: “What happened?”

Piotr: “They didn’t hit us directly. But we saw the flashes in the sky, the sky get dim, and we all had a conscious thought of what had happened.

Any contradiction I had was pounded by a radio message I got, telling all of us to seek immediate shelter.

And so we sheltered in a house. A house that felt lonely and depressing each passing minute. I lost good comrades like Andrzej during that time. We spent God knows how long in there, praying that humanity was still surviving on its own.”

Piotr plays with the buttons of his radio.

Piotr: “Until one day, we got a message.

I thought it would be a check up on our unit or an evacuating order.

…

Wrong, we had to march forward.”

Michael: “Through cold conditions?”

Piotr: “Yes.

We all huddled in our warm and crisp vehicles, whilst the anger against the Eurasians for nuking us brewed quickly.”

Michael: “Wait, what was your destination?”

Piotr: “St. Petersburg.”

Michael: “And what happened when you went there?”

…

Piotr: “Our orders were to burn the city to the ground and leave no survivors.”

Michael: “And-“

Piotr: “I complied.”

Piotr pauses and closes his eyes, and after a few seconds, he opens then again.

“Have you ever read of the Rape of Nanking? When Japan utterly devastated the city, did the most horrible atrocities known to man? It sounds gory when the type of expewritten, but experiencing it lacks words.

Even more so if you were forced to participate in it.

…

I could’ve done anything, refused, pulled out, even helped out, anything for fuck’s sake. But the threat of demotion and death by those who were superior loomed over, and orders were orders.

I’ve tried to repress them, but they all keep coming back. The men, women, children, the ones we shot and didn’t even have the respect to bury, the public hangings, the horrors that we unleashed, the orders which I could’ve disobeyed but did out of fear of myself dead.

Piotr takes out a medal, one commemorating his service in the Polish Army, and examines it.

I once thought we Poles were the moral high guardian, the ones fighting the evil that Eurasia had put upon us. I thought I was fighting for a cause I believed in.

…

How could I be so wrong?”

Piotr sheds a single tear.

“And I got a fucking reward for this. A promotion from Major to Captain, to be exact. All for the horror I inflicted.

Yet, I still followed those orders for 10 years.”

Michael takes a look at a uniform on the left. It has aged, with rips on the front and sleeves.

Piotr: “I was able to escape once the war was over. I left the Army and fled from the sins of myself. I decided to change my identity and settle in Alaska. Remote, nobody around, just to stay away.

Until…”

Piotr glances at the two of them. He picks up another thing from the box, a bottle of beer.

“Two things.

Go to the World War 4 Memorial in Warsaw. This bottle belonged to Andrzej, one of the most heartwarming people I’ve seen on the battlefield. Find his name and place it on there.”

Michael: “And the second?”

Piotr: “Go back to wherever you came from and tell people that I’m dead. Make up a story that I died due to the cold, things will be better that way. I don’t want anybody to know I’m alive.”

Jeffrey: “But why?”

Piotr: “Because all I want, all I ask for, is just true peace.”