Coward

It was a warm, unusually sunny day. I was standing in a garden full of colorful flowers and lush green grass. My parents were sitting on a blanket, waving at me. I looked down at my hands and realized with surprise: They were the hands of a little boy. I was wearing shorts, sandals, and knee-high socks. I was filled with joy. So I was a little boy again. Maybe everything that had happened so far was just a bad dream. And reality was here and now, in this garden. I ran toward my parents. They were smiling at me. All I could hear was the rustle of the trees. The warm summer wind swayed them gently. It was so bright, so very bright, and pleasantly warm. With each step as I approached my parents, the wind seemed to intensify. The rustle of leaves grew stronger. I looked at their previously cheerful faces. Anxiety seeped into them. I wanted to quicken my pace, but I couldn't. My legs seemed to give way. The sun was quickly obscured by dark clouds. It grew dark. The warm wind turned into a cold, icy gust. I stretched out my tiny arms toward my parents. They were terrified, staring at me and shouting. I didn't hear a word. The trees gave way before the increasingly strong wind, breaking in half. I felt a chill. I don't know if it was the wind or the anxiety of not being able to reach my mother and father. They were crying, reaching out to me, but they couldn't move either. I felt helpless and lost. A moment later, darkness enveloped the place where, moments before, they had been cuddling on a blanket. I was left alone. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I looked at my hands. They weren't the hands of a small child anymore. I was twenty years old again. I felt dizzy. I no longer knew who I was or where I was. The only thing that was omnipresent was the rustle of the trees, swaying in the strong wind.

It took me a long time to open my eyes. My eyelids felt like lead. When I managed to do so, I had to immediately close them, struck by the blinding whiteness. I heard something familiar: the rustle of trees. Not quite like the rustle I'd heard moments ago in the secret garden. The trees creaked in the wind. I opened my eyes a second time, this time carefully squinting slightly. I stared at the sky. It was steel gray. The black trunks of the trees stretched upward. They seemed so enormous. Their bare branches were raised as if in silent protest. I felt the cold breeze on my face again. I looked around. I was lying on the ground in the snow. With great difficulty, I rose to my knees. My head was pounding with pain. I felt a strong throbbing in my temples. I was in a forest. Now, as I looked more closely, I saw that the bark on the trees was scarred, riddled with bullet holes. I looked around and only now noticed I wasn't alone. Other people were lying on the ground. All dressed like me. They weren't moving. Even the icy wind didn't seem to bother them. Some had their faces turned skyward, others buried in the snow. I tried to stand up. My legs were stiff, but after a few tries, I managed. I moved forward. Trees and bodies were everywhere. Suddenly, I tripped over something and landed in the snow again. I rummaged through the white powder. I felt for something and pulled it out. It took me a few seconds to realize I was holding a human hand. I was so numb that it didn't even faze me. I tossed it aside without any reluctance. It was immediately covered in snow. I stood up and moved forward. I had to move. I was terribly cold. I counted about thirty bodies. At least all of them. I couldn't believe I was the only one alive. Panic began to seize me. I wasn't terrified by the death that was everywhere at my feet. I was terrified of being alone. I didn't know where I was, which way to go. Trees and corpses everywhere. I bent down for my rifle. I had to pry it from the dead man's clenched fingers. When I felt the gun in my hand, I calmed down a bit. I knew it was absurd, but it gave me a little comfort. I clung to it like a small child. I could defend myself, I could defend myself, or... I didn't want to think about the second possibility. I noticed a strange mark on the ground. As if someone had dragged a large object through the snow. So maybe someone had survived. I clung to that thought. Snow began to fall, so to prevent it from covering my trail, I hurried forward. With each step, I gained a little warmth. I was almost running at a jog. In the distance, I noticed a brown spot. I broke into a run. It was a stretched out canopy. So, I thought, and cocking my rifle just in case, I headed in that direction. When I got closer, I slowed down. I heard someone cough. Unfortunately, as if to spite him, he didn't say anything, so with my heart in my mouth,Completely frozen with cold, I jumped into a small depression in the ground where someone had set up a makeshift camp.

I aimed at the seated figure. My breathing was quick with nervousness. The air I exhaled immediately turned to steam. The seated man looked at me as if completely indifferent. He was shivering with cold.

"What the fuck, don't you recognize the uniform, soldier?" he asked through his livid lips, without any real anger. Only then did I calm down a bit and put the safety on. I sat down next to him. Another man lay across from us. As I looked at him, I heard the voice of the man sitting next to me:

"Abdominal wound, that's my scribe," he said, as if explaining the presence of his colleague.

"A scribe?" I asked, confused. I had great difficulty gathering my thoughts. I must have had a stupid look on my face, because I immediately heard:

"Company scribe, what's wrong with you, man? I'm not saying he's some fucking poet." He cut me off. My head was pounding with pain. It took me a moment to realize what he was saying. I glanced at his insignia. Lieutenant. I don't know why, but I was naively happy. I thought the officer would know how to get us out of this.

"Asleep?" I asked, pointing the rifle barrel at the motionless soldier. The lieutenant nodded, and I was immediately overcome by a strange anxiety.

"This is bad," I stammered. The cold was taking its toll on me again. My face hardened from the frost, and I had difficulty speaking.

"This is probably bad," I stammered.

"How do you know?

" "I don't know..." I stammered, "I don't remember anything."

We started to wake him. It didn't help, so the lieutenant, impatient, slapped him across the face. It worked. The boy opened his eyes and immediately groaned in pain. When he calmed down, he asked, looking at his bloody stomach.

"Is this serious?" he asked, barely articulating the words. We were silent, and he looked trustingly at the lieutenant. I don't know if it was because of his rank or because he was the oldest among us.

"Will I get through this?" He grabbed his sleeve. "Lieutenant," he said, raising his voice.

"I don't know," the lieutenant replied, looking off into the distance. "I fucking don't know, I'm not a doctor."

I was surprised that, even though he spoke so dryly, there was no anger or malice in his voice. More like resignation. The wounded boy was even younger than me. We started talking. He had a pack of cigarettes, so we started smoking. The wind was picking up, and the falling snow made it impossible to see beyond a few meters. Clouds of steam and cigarette smoke billowed from our mouths. It was starting to get dark. After an hour, I couldn't make out faces anymore, only dark spots. No one knew exactly where we were. Which way the front was heading. But each of us realized that the longer we stayed here, the slimmer our chances.

"It's cold," someone said in the darkness. I heard teeth chattering. I don't know, maybe it was me who called. No one took up the subject. Everyone felt the cold, and that statement could only have aroused irritation. The lieutenant pondered something, as he hadn't said a word for a while. Finally, he said,

"We can't stay here." He paused, or perhaps he was waiting for someone to come up with a better idea. No one spoke.

"We have to go, I don't know which way, but screw it, we have to go somewhere warmer."

The prospect of heading out into this blizzard, in an unknown direction, wasn't exactly thrilling, but everyone probably realized by then that staying here didn't make much sense.

"Can you walk?" I asked the boy. He nodded uncertainly. Besides, there was no other option. The lieutenant had gathered several automatic rifles and grenades before I found them. We gathered the entire compound and slowly moved into the dark forest.

The whole time, I had this strange feeling of unreality. The whole world had gone mad, the war engulfed every corner. I didn't know who survived, family, friends, acquaintances. I was lost. I was walking with strangers, yet I was glad for their presence. It was all irrational, or maybe it was the cold. The cold seeped into everything, into my coat, seeping through my pants. I don't remember how long we walked. A wounded boy was leaning on my shoulder. I only saw the blur of the back of the lieutenant leading us. I don't know where such naive thoughts came from. However, the fact that he was a lieutenant and, moreover, older than me, reassured me. You always think that being older means always knowing how to behave, always finding a way out of a situation. But here we were all equally lost and helpless. We walked for several hours. The deathly pale moon illuminated our path. It was a murderous feat, but fear gave us strength. We came across a small cave. The lieutenant decided it was a good place to rest. Indeed, the wind wasn't quite as strong as it had been during the march. We decided to take turns keeping watch, also keeping an eye on our wounded private. We were somewhere close to the front line, but a dead silence reigned all around. The wind had died down, and the snow fell freely to the ground, as if in a silent movie, silently. I was the first to lie down. Although I thought I wouldn't sleep, exhaustion took over.

I was in a kayak. My father and I were floating on a calm lake. It was so pleasant. Warmth seeped from the sky. My mother was waiting on the shore. She was basking in the sun, preparing a meal for us. I looked at my father. He smiled at me. He was a tall man, strong and gentle. I trusted him so much. I stuck out my hand, casually dipping it into the warm water. The muffled sounds of people playing could already be heard from the shore. I could see the heads of swimmers, someone was playing with a ball on the beach, lovers were strolling. When I closed my voices, I felt only a pleasant warmth, and only the catatonic sounds of the distant shore reached my ears. The kayak rocked gently, lulling me into a pleasant lethargy. I felt safe. In a moment, I would eat the delicious meal my mother had prepared. We were approaching the shore. I heard my father's voice.

"We will never leave you," he said in his deep, pleasant voice. I smiled, my eyes still closed. His voice and presence made me feel very calm. When I opened my eyes, my father wasn't in the kayak. He was standing on the shore with my mother. They were both waving at me from a distance. I straightened up in my seat. I felt a sense of unease. I was moving away from the shore, and my parents were waving. I don't know if it was to say goodbye or to beckon me. More and more water was surrounding me. The shore was already far away. I looked around. There was only water everywhere, vast expanses filled with water. The waves were churning. A warm wind ruffled my hair, and the kayak began to rock more and more. I still heard the sweet sound of my father's words—"We will never leave you!"—I savored those words. The kayak rocked violently, and I began to fear falling.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the lieutenant leaning over me. He was shaking me violently, and my head was bobbing helplessly in the snow. I looked at his frozen face. He was saying something to me. I sat up stiffly. He offered me a cigarette. I lit it.

"So far, peace and quiet," he reported matter-of-factly, "but don't you dare take a nap, or I'll wring your neck." He said it warningly.

"If the Germans don't do it first," I said with a touch of irony. The remnants of sleep hadn't yet left my eyes and I found myself in this hostile world. The moon still dominated the dark sky. I got up to stretch my legs a bit. I still couldn't resist the feeling that it was all so... incredible. I began to feel hungry. I tried to push away thoughts of warm soup. Not only would it fill my stomach, but it would also warm me up a bit. No, I couldn't torture myself like that. A cold gust of wind ripped me from my thoughts. I inhaled deeply from my cigarette. The smoke reminded me of something warm and pleasant. The snow had stopped falling. There was still complete silence. I looked at the sleeping private. He was sleeping; it wasn't a peaceful sleep, but still. I began to wonder what he was dreaming about. I regretted that I knew nothing about medicine and couldn't help him. I looked at their faces. I didn't know them at all. Just this morning, I had no idea they existed. I wondered who they were before the war. What memories they had, what kind of lives they led. I clutched the automatic in my hands. It was unbelievable how much that piece of iron gave me a sense of security. Whenever I tried to think back to the events before I woke up in the forest, I felt a terrible headache. I couldn't remember a thing. I don't even know if I'd ever fired a shot. I aimed in the darkness ahead, aiming at imaginary enemies. A silly game, but I had to do something.

Dawn was breaking. I was already staggering with exhaustion. My eyelids were drooping. I had to rub the cold snow into my face to stay awake. The lieutenant woke up on his own. He immediately put a cigarette in his mouth. He smiled faintly at me, seeing that I had been on guard the entire time. I woke the wounded boy. It was time to move on. Snow fell as if to greet us after last night. The wind was again whipping clouds of snow from the ground into the air. After two hours of walking, we emerged from the forest. A meadow stretched before us. A white desert. Here, even the trees no longer protected us from the chilly wind. Our situation was dire. We had to walk in the open. The only solace in the blizzard. After an hour of arduous walking, shapes darker than the ubiquitous white began to emerge before us. The lieutenant instinctively reached for his binoculars, but unfortunately, they weren't where he expected them to be. He just cursed and we set off. We were standing a few hundred meters from a village. It was actually some kind of town. The buildings consisted of a few tenement houses and detached houses. We stopped at a safe distance, observing. The town was in ruins. None of the houses were still standing. Rubble littered the streets. Some house walls had been torn off as if by the hand of a great giant, revealing their interiors. Apartments were visible, furnished, the colors of the walls. It seemed there wasn't a soul there. All I could think about looking at this sight was a warm place where I could finally sleep. We moved rather clumsily from the cold; in other circumstances, it might have looked comical. We reloaded our automatic rifles. We had to leave behind our wounded comrade. He could only get in the way if we encountered the enemy. The lieutenant left him three grenades and two extra magazines.

"Wait here for us," he told him as he left. The boy didn't protest. He moved the grenades closer to him and took up position.

We moved forward, taking cautious steps. We moved along the walls of buildings, or what remained of them. The entire town seemed deserted. We tried to peer into every potentially dangerous spot. Finally, we reached a single, relatively intact, detached house. The fence was low, enough to climb over. Hunching our shoulders, we trotted closer to the house. The lieutenant signaled me with hand signals. I understood immediately and jumped to the threshold. I stopped at the door, aiming for the lock. After a moment, he waved me over. I shot the lock, and he kicked the door with all his might. The door slammed open, and we burst inside. We stood in a large room. In the corner was a large bed and in the center a table. It was a bit chaotic. There wasn't much furniture, just a chest of drawers and a sideboard. We stood on a threadbare carpet. The lieutenant pointed to the door. I nodded. I slowly approached it. I grabbed the doorknob and, without waiting for an order, opened the door. At the same moment, a powerful blow knocked my automatic rifle from my hand. It fell to the floor with a crash. I was hit hard in the face. I woke up after a few seconds. Someone was standing behind me, twisting one of my arms and holding the other to my throat. When I looked ahead, I saw the lieutenant. His face was expressionless. He was aiming directly at the attacker, or at me, I wasn't sure. I felt excruciating pain. My arm was twisted in an unnatural way. Feeling the blade against my throat, I felt panic. Why had I endured so much in this damned cold only to now walk straight into some German's knife? I thought. Behind me, I heard a woman's voice. She was screaming something, but I couldn't understand a word. Neither did the lieutenant. However, I didn't need a translator to understand what she meant. Strangely, I didn't even feel ashamed at having fallen into the hands of a woman. The lieutenant hesitated for a moment. I felt him mentally considering destroying her, or maybe both of us. For at least a minute or two, the woman's scream echoed through the room. I knew then that if I survived, I would never be able to listen to that language again. The blade dug into my neck. I felt something sticky and warm dripping from where she'd placed it. I started to panic. Jesus, she was about to slit my throat. The lieutenant must have seen the panic in my eyes and, after a moment's thought, put the gun on the floor. He kicked her in the side. I felt his grip loosen, and then I was kicked in the back. I flew toward the disarmed lieutenant. The woman handed me a rope. I realized I had to tie him up. I did as she asked. Immediately after, I was struck in the back of the head with some blunt object. I fell to the floor. For a few moments, I didn't know exactly what was happening to me. But that was enough for her to tie my hands. We both lay on the floor.

"You stupid bastard," the furious lieutenant hissed, "we'll die here because of your stupidity." I knew he was right. I lowered my head to the floor. I was ashamed that I'd let him down. That I'd let us both down. I also noticed, quite soberly, that the room was warm. For the first time in I don't know how many days, I stopped feeling the terrible cold. From the floor, we watched a woman bustling around the room. She was in uniform. She wore black leather boots that almost reached her knees. Her uniform was neatly pressed. When the lieutenant noticed her insignia, he froze.

"What happened?" I asked.

"She's an SS woman." He looked at me as if I were crazy. "You really have lost your memory, haven't you heard what they do to people?" He said, then stopped paying attention to me. I tried to remember something. The only response was a terrible headache and a sense of chaos. The woman went to the sideboard. I heard the door creak, and a moment later she pulled out a radio transmitter. Now I froze, no matter what I remembered. I was already picturing her summoning dozens of soldiers here. It was stupid, because she could have taken us out without anyone's help. She set the black metal box on the table so she could keep an eye on us. Even though she was alone, I saw no fear in her eyes, nothing at all. She was slim and had a set face, as if accustomed to giving orders. She took off her cap. Her blond hair fell into her black uniform. She was about to put on headphones when the front door opened almost silently. I didn't hear it. I only saw the German woman's mouth drop open in disbelief and her terrified gaze toward the door. The lieutenant and I followed her gaze. Our wounded private stood in the doorway. He was swaying on his feet, leaning against the wall. In his hands, he held a machine gun, aimed at the woman.

"Drop it, you fascist bitch," he rasped. When the woman didn't react, he reloaded. The hollow sound of the lock seemed to sober her. She stood up. He ordered her to lie on the floor. She obeyed. Holding her at gunpoint, he released the lieutenant. Then me. The lieutenant ran to the woman. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. The young man sat down against the wall. He was too exhausted to stand.

"You were gone so long," he stammered, frozen. "I thought you'd abandoned me, I started looking for you." He spoke as if to justify himself.

"Good job," I praised him. I went to close the door. I had just turned around just as the lieutenant punched the SS woman in the face. She was hit with such force that she crashed into the dresser, bounced off it, and landed on the floor. She raised her head and looked at us. There was pride in her eyes. She was saying something in that incomprehensible, sinister language.

"Look at that bitch," the still-angry lieutenant rasped, "she's a fanatic, she's not even afraid of us." He spat on the floor.

"Are you trying to cast a spell on us?" he asked ironically, approaching her. When he stopped, he aimed a kick in her face. The woman lost consciousness. I turned my head away. I couldn't watch. Even though she wanted to kill me, I felt no hatred. I didn't really feel anything.

There was a stove in the corner. I went out to get some wood and lit it until the entire stove was red. We sat on the floor in silence. The only sound in the room was the hiss and crackle of burning wood. It was like the most wonderful music to our eager ears. Outside, a gale was already raging.

"We found this shelter just in time," I said indifferently. No one took up the matter. I looked around the rooms. I brought a bowl of water. The lieutenant and I carried the already weakened boy to the bed. I washed his wound. I couldn't help him any more. He'd lost a lot of blood. His clothes were soaked through. I made a bandage and a tourniquet from a piece of sheet.

"Get some sleep, we're safe here," I said without conviction. He was terribly pale. I lit a cigarette and took a seat by the window. I looked out at this ghost town. Complete emptiness. Only the snow was our faithful companion. The wind howled outside. It was as if the world were ending. I glanced at the German woman; she was still unconscious on the floor. Strange thoughts began to invade my mind. Maybe the war was over. Only we here knew nothing about it. Or maybe it was just us. A world without people, only cold wind and snow. I listened to the hissing of the fire in the stove. There was something comforting about it. I was no longer happy about the warmth itself, but about the sensation of warmth the flames gave off. The lieutenant laid out all our weapons on the table. He began cleaning his pistol.

We didn't feel like talking to each other. We had arrived here, but none of us knew what to do next. Where our unit was, which way the front had moved. We knew absolutely nothing. We kept glancing nervously out the window. I think he, like me, was afraid that a German division would soon roll into town. In all this madness, with millions dying, our lives were meaningless. Yet we would want to preserve them at all costs. I don't know where this hope that life was still worth living came from. I noticed him glancing at the fallen SS woman. I began to study her myself. She was quite slim. Her face was stern, but attractive. Her fair hair was scattered around her head like pick-up sticks. Her uniform skirt was slightly riddled. She was wearing brown tights. I felt a twinge of anxiety. Her outfit wasn't suitable for any kind of trek. Someone had probably brought her here, and if so...

"Go to sleep, I need to gather my thoughts about what we're doing next," the lieutenant snapped me out of my reverie.

"I just thought..." I didn't get a chance to finish, as he interrupted me.

- Get some sleep, I'll do the thinking.

Without a word, I got up and went to the other room. As I crossed the threshold, I immediately remembered that a few hours earlier, I had almost lost my life in this very place. It had been saved by that poor young private, now dying in the bed next to mine. I couldn't help him. I lay down, my hand on the butt of my machine gun. I fell asleep despite my hunger.

When I woke up, I heard moans behind the door. The sounds of a scuffle. I jumped to my feet, grabbed my weapon, and rushed into the room. A German woman lay on the tabletop. The lieutenant stood at one end. He lifted her skirt and ripped off her panties. The woman was moaning, but her mouth was gagged. She tried to defend herself at all costs, but she stood no chance in this fight.

"What are you doing, lieutenant?" I shouted at him. He stood up, zipped up his fly, and looked at me with a look that terrified me.

"Don't interfere, you pup," he shouted. "Go back to your room, that's an order!" He was screaming. I knew I had no chance in hand-to-hand combat with such a large and likely battle-hardened officer. I wasn't going to shoot him, I thought, and left, closing the door behind me. I felt embarrassed and humiliated. I sat on the bed and covered my ears with my hands to block out the German woman's curses and moans. Then images began to flash before my eyes.

I was standing in the schoolyard. It was late, after school. A group of boys from my class were standing around me. I was about ten years old. They were all standing and shouting. Across from me, with fists outstretched, stood another boy. We were going to fight. I don't remember what. All I saw were eyes full of hatred, staring straight at me. Some of the crowd were encouraging him to fight, others were encouraging me. I stood paralyzed with fear. I couldn't raise my hands to defend myself. I felt fear. I felt powerless. Everyone was shouting and waving their arms. He was hovering around me, waiting for any moment to strike me. I burst into tears. I couldn't face him. I wanted to hide behind my father's back. But he wasn't there. My opponent pushed me. I fell to the ground. I covered my face with my hands. The kids burst into laughter. The boy who had pushed me spat on the ground in my direction and walked away. The others followed him, laughing at me. Some of those who had been cheering me on walked away, looking at me with contempt. I was a coward.

I stood up abruptly, causing the machine gun to fall from my lap onto the wooden floor. I took it and tightened my grip on it. Enough was enough. I wouldn't run away from this childhood moment of weakness for the rest of my life. Now I felt the same way. I opened the door and entered the room. The lieutenant was just entering her with quick, nervous movements. He didn't mind that the woman was trying to fight, struggling with her whole body.

"Enough!" I shouted. But he didn't even think of interrupting. He didn't even look at me. Then I cocked the automatic and reloaded. That sobered him. He stepped back from the table. He stood with his pants down to his ankles. I aimed straight at his head.

"Enough," I said, a little calmer. "We're not animals.

" "Why are you so sorry for that fascist whore?" He hissed furiously. "We're all going to die here anyway, what does it matter what I do with her now?" he asked.

"Maybe nothing to you," I replied, "but it does to me. Please put your clothes on," I said, a little more quietly. But he was still standing, staring at me with hatred.

"You little bastard, first that bitch almost killed us because of your stupidity," he hissed, full of contempt for me, "and now this!" He screamed.

I stared at him unblinkingly. I wasn't about to back down from my hard-won decision. Suddenly, the lieutenant looked at me with wide eyes, making me take a step back. His eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. Just as I was about to open my mouth to ask what he meant, he spat blood at me. I couldn't understand what had happened. The lieutenant stood there, his eyes bulging, blood spurting from his mouth every few seconds. He began to sway on his feet until he finally collapsed to the floor. Only after a moment did I realize he was dead. The hilt of a bayonet protruded from his back, somewhere between his shoulder blades. I looked up from him to the SS woman. She was sitting on the table. Her blouse was torn. I could see her bare breast, but somehow it didn't matter. She had drawn her legs up in her torn stockings. She looked at me with madness in her eyes. God, I thought with horror, we hadn't even checked her, and she must have had that damn knife hidden in her officer's boots. I aimed it at her, approaching the lieutenant. I don't know why I checked his pulse. It was a strange reflex. I felt again as if I had no direct involvement in what had happened here.

"Wait," she said in my language, "my unit will be here soon. If you don't kill me, I'll help you get to your own." She spoke indistinctly, but I understood her perfectly. "So, in a moment, there will be a whole lot of Germans here," I thought. And suddenly, everything became indifferent. I felt tired of this constant flight. I aimed it at her face.

"You know..." I started to speak to her, though I wasn't convinced she'd understand. "I don't even know if I'd killed a man." I felt tears streaming down my cheeks. But even if I didn't, I continued, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. "You'll be the first."

When I finished saying this, I pulled the trigger. I didn't have to aim carefully. I was standing only four meters away from her. She hit with such force that she was practically wiped off the table. She landed on the floor. Nothing remained of her face. The sound of the shot rang in my ears for several minutes. Strange, I felt practically nothing. Nothing but numbness. After all, I hadn't killed a man, I thought to myself, I had killed an enemy. I remembered the wounded private, went to the bed, he was dead. His face was completely blue. And I was left alone. In some hut, in an unknown town. Two corpses lay on the floor, a third in the bed. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, this wasn't how I was supposed to live. I'm not unreal, I kept repeating to myself, I'm not a man from nowhere. I have my own history, I have my own family. It's just a bad dream. Germans, I suddenly remembered. The Germans were going to be here any minute. I didn't care. When there were three of us, I somehow had the strength. But now that I was alone, nothing mattered anymore. I don't know why. I didn't know these two. But they gave me strength, the will to survive. I grabbed all the grenades and weapons we had, placing them under the window. The snow prevented me from observing. But I waited. I replaced the magazine with a full one, reloaded the weapon, and waited.

I sat by the window, staring out into the courtyard. Apart from the hissing fire and the howling wind, no sound reached me. I stared so intently that I could already see the approaching SS division with a willpower. I rubbed my eyes. The longer I waited, the more nervous I became. In my mind's eye, I saw myself being taken prisoner and tortured. I walked over to the lieutenant and pulled his pistol from its holster. I checked the magazine. Three rounds, two too many. I placed it beside me. I would not allow myself to be taken alive. And then I heard the sound. At first, I thought it was another hallucination, but the sound grew louder with each passing moment. Vibrating and ominous. I pricked up my ears. Beyond the engines, I heard the unmistakable sound of caterpillar tracks. And then I saw. Tanks had entered the town. I couldn't see clearly; the snow was falling too heavily. Behind the tanks, crouched figures were scurrying past. Soldiers. I looked around the room again. I don't know if I wanted to say goodbye to them this way. I was alone. The square in front of the house was filling with figures. I noticed my hands were shaking. My stomach was in my throat. I vomited against the wall. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it was over. It would be over soon. For a second, I thought I should turn off the stove. If they saw the smoke, they'd know immediately. I didn't know whether to aim for the front door or the window. Before I could decide, the front door flew off its hinges. Soldiers burst into the room. Two of them somersaulted across the floor and aimed their weapons at me. Two others stood in the doorway, partially hidden behind the wall. For a few seconds, complete silence fell in the room. I heard nothing but the beating of my own heart. We sat facing each other, rifles aimed at me. I don't remember how long it actually lasted.

"Drop your weapon, soldier," I heard the command directed at me.

I couldn't understand it, I looked around the room. Their uniforms, they spoke the same words as me. The same helmets, the same clothes. Then I understood. I felt hot tears streaming down my cheek. I put down my weapon, and two soldiers approached me. They took me under the arms and led me out of the house.

"We're getting ready, it's going to be hell here soon," I heard one of them say.

An officer, a tall, slender man, approached me.

"What happened there

, Corporal?" he asked. "Why is the lieutenant's pants off?" The first thing that struck me was what he called me? So I'm a Corporal. It's incredible that I hadn't even looked at my insignia until now. And then everything unleashed itself. The memories hit me like the frost outside. I had just opened my mouth to report when the officer said,

"Never mind, keep it to yourself.