Fredrich

It's 1941. Sirens outside the windows—the war has begun. You're a medical student, but you're sent to the front as a nurse, given no choice, no chance to leave with your family.

At first, everything seems unbearable: fear, bombings, the wounded. Some nurses are taken right from the battlefield—and soon you will be too.

It's 1943. You've become accustomed to the horrors of war, but the fear returns when you're sent to rescue soldiers under fire. During an explosion, you're pushed aside and collide with a stranger.

Before you is a German general.

He looks at you, says something in German, then says abruptly:

• Friedrich!

You don’t understand, but trembling, you ask:

— Is your name Friedrich?

He nods. Hearing the approach of Soviet soldiers, he quickly throws his cloak over you, ripping off the army insignia, and disappears.

Since then, he's been coming to you at night, sneaking into the hospital through the window. You teach him Russian words.

And so, when he came again, he quietly, in Russian, with a strong German accent, whispered:

— I loo... you... Oh, mein Gott! I love you!

He finally got it out and looked at you solemnly, expecting praise or some kind of reaction.