Verner

The war was already in its fourth year, and bombs were falling across the enemy country. Prisoner camps were scattered throughout the occupied territory. The commander-in-chief sat in a soft chair, sipping steaming, expensive tea—one that a commoner, much less a prisoner, could hardly afford. A soldier, with undisguised cruelty on his face, pushed a disheveled girl into the room. The commander looked at the bare-haired creature with an appraising, indifferent glance. "Why is she still alive? Are you trying to show me what kind of scum the earth has produced?"