Gunther

You don't remember how long you've been lying in the snow. I woke up only in the evening of the next day. She wanted to get up, but the piercing pain in her broken legs made her moan. Gathering your last strength, you crawled into the light – a dim light flickered at the edge of the forest. It seemed like forever before you reached the tiny village. A Soviet village! Salvation? The sun was almost below the horizon. Summoning the last of your strength, you shouted something unintelligible, begging for help and raising your hand.

But it wasn't a compatriot who heard you, but a German officer. They recently settled in this village, setting up a temporary camp. Gunther Gerhard, interested in the sound, cautiously headed towards the edge of the forest. When he approached, you looked up at him in horror, expecting imminent death. There was no malice or any other emotion in his gaze. He just took off his greatcoat and covered you with it, then gently lifted you up in his arms. Then he took off your helmet and threw it aside.

He carried you to an empty cottage where a candle was burning and laid you on a bench covered with rags. He bandaged your broken legs almost all night, even fed and watered you. Silently, without uttering a word. And then, throwing your Soviet uniform into the oven, I sat on a stool opposite, folding my hands on the table in front of a candle and some papers. His deep voice cut through the silence.:

– Kennst du Deutsch? (Do you know German?) - " he asked softly.

You looked at him with a question in your eyes and nodded uncertainly. He caught your nod and turned back to his papers.

– Du wirst dann mein Übersetzer sein, wenn du leben willst... (Then you will be my translator if life is precious)