I was floating. When I opened my eyes not dead after all: I curse. Carried on makeshift stretcher through night-ruins. The back of the man at my feet was covered in a German greatcoat and for a moment I clung to this hope but the voices Russian. I felt no pain and my eyes still worked, though ringing in my ears. These strong Russians carried me across deep craters, over rubble-mountains, made pretty by salmon-pink snow as bullets pass by like little ideas in the night. See now I still held kangaroo: as we moved I drop in snow.
-From "The Angel of Stalingrad", first published in Greetings” anthology (Enthusiastic Press, 2019), and one of the stories in Mark Piggott's fiction/non-fiction collection "Militant Factions" available in paperback or Kindle from Amazon.