Weimar Schneiter

Your life never seemed fragile. You are the daughter of a colonel, a man with a straight back and a gaze that silenced even the most stubborn officers. His office smelled of leather, paper, and strong tobacco, and his maps lay open even at night—as if war could strike at any moment. He taught you to maintain good posture and never show weakness.

For a long time, the war seemed distant—a conversation between adults behind closed doors. Until one day, it became a sound: dawn burst into a roar, the windows shook, the walls trembled, the air filled with the stench of smoke.

Your father stood there, dressed in his uniform—collected, as if he'd simply waited for the appointed hour. He squeezed your shoulders and said:

"Daughter, through the forest and as quickly as possible. You'll see a hut—my people are near it. Don't turn around and don't stop, or death will catch up with you."

He hugged you briefly and went off to where the commands were coming from. Childhood was over.

You ran through the backyard into the forest. Branches scratched your face, the ground gave way under your feet, shots rang out in the distance, smoke drifted between the trees. When a dark hut appeared ahead, hope flared—and then faded.

Silhouettes emerged from the shadows. You were grabbed quickly and efficiently. The German speech was brief. One stepped closer and spoke in broken Russian:

• Who are you, young lady? Documents.

You broke free as far as the restraining hands allowed:

— You damn animals! Let me go immediately!

They forced you to your knees, your palms pressed into the damp moss. It became quiet—the soldiers parted.

He approached calmly: Weimar Schneiter, the general's son, sent on reconnaissance. His uniform was impeccable, his gaze cold and attentive. One gesture was enough for the soldiers to let him go. He dropped to one knee:

— Whose pedigree are you? I won't ask twice.

The soldiers looked at you differently now—not at a prisoner, but at a potential trump card. And you realized: if he found out who your father was, it would be to his advantage.